His Reflection
by RudeMinnesotan
Summary: Harry has just defeated Voldemort and subsequently disappears. Blaine is looking in his mirror after that fateful dance when his reflection falls out. But his reflection isn't him. This version is definitely unconscious. Cue: Panic! Don't Own. Gen. Slash. Het. Language.
1. His Reflection

**Chapter 1 **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**AN: Don't take this too seriously. I don't. *Follow The Bouncing Muse.***

**Beta'd by Scarletdewdrops. **

_... ... …_

* * *

This was it.

The final battle.

The final faceoff of the final battle.

The final moment of the final faceoff of the final battle.

The fi-

Stop, it's not over yet.

Harry had just whipped off his Invisibility cloak and yelled at Voldemort. He was brimming with confidence after hearing Neville's speech and had adrenaline coursing through his veins.

This was it, he could do it. Final moment of the final face-off of the final battle!

Taking a step back, Harry looked at the Hawthorn wand in his hand, feeling his broken Holly wand shift in his pocket next to the Resurrection Stone which he just couldn't seem to get rid of, and his mokeskin pouch, and drew his arm back to throw one last Expelliarmus at Voldemort.

This one worked. Of course, that was after their wands joined back together in a crazy stream.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur.

Harry felt his foot slip on the Cloak. He watched the magic hit Voldemort in the chest, sending the Elder Wand flying. Voldemort fucking exploded like a party cracker. The wand smacked Harry right in the face, cracking his glasses. The Voldie-splosion reached him, the magic shooting out of the snake-man in a giant wave of power. A huge pain blossomed from where the Voldie-splosion hit him-which kind of felt like everywhere, though some places hurt worse than others.

And then Harry was gone.

… … …

* * *

Blaine Anderson was angry.

So, so, so very angry.

He was standing in his room, in front of his full-length mirror, staring at himself and trying not to punch the mirror. He'd just got back from the dance, that terrible dance, where he and his friend-JUST A FRIEND not even his fucking BOYFRIEND-had been having a great time before the stupid homophobic neanderthals of his school jumped them.

He hadn't even bothered to change after the dance. He took out his contact since he'd lost the other during the beating, not to mention it needed to come out before the eye swelled shut even more. It was pretty late at night, though still Saturday, May 2nd. He gently touched the already forming black eye… Ugh, this sucked.

Just as Blaine leaned in close to the mirror to get a better look at his ridiculously split lip that would bleed sluggishly every time he spoke, the entire front of his mirror shimmered like a mirage.

"What the…?" He was already pretty close to the mirror and he wanted to lean forward more to get a better look, but instinct suggested he take a step back, so he did.

Good thing too because his fucking REFLECTION fell out of the mirror and onto the floor in front of him.

His reflection didn't look _exactly_ like him only because it wasn't wearing the same clothes, but the hair and glasses were the same. Same-ish. Blaine's hair was still partially styled, but this guy's-no. NO this was his reflection, wasn't it!? ANYWAY, IT WAS MESSY LIKE BLAINE'S USUALLY WAS.

Blaine didn't even realize that as his thoughts started to scream at him, out of his own mouth came a loud, "MOOOOOOMMMMM!" ending on a scared shriek. He took several stumbling steps back away from his closet door, vaguely noticing he no longer had a reflection-SINCE IT WAS LAYING ON THE FUCKING FLOOR, BLEEDING-and hit his wall.

The door to his room slammed open to reveal both his mom and dad, the former holding a fucking bat as if it would help with the broken looking body on the ground. Blaine stared at them, face a mess from his own beating, and then just pointed to the thing on the floor.

His dad was torn for a moment between Blaine's own appearance and whoever was on the floor, but his mom had absolutely no compunctions about shoving her bat at her husband and rushing to the kid on the ground as his state was worse than Blaine's.

"Oh dear, what happened?" Pam Anderson gently touched the shoulder of the boy on the floor, the teen making a small noise of pain.

"Uh," Blaine started elegantly when his dad cut in.

"What happened to you?" Charles stepped forward, gently taking ahold of Blaine's face. Blaine pushed away his hands, looking down.

"It's not important. I'm fine," as if bushing off that hands would brush off the topic, "That guy just fell out of my mirror!"

"What?" Both parents replied, Charles finally looking at the mirror-which had gotten slightly warped.

Blaine nodded, "I was just-..." he stopped to sigh, "I was looking at my face… and then the mirror began to glow or something and then he fell out of it."

Pam nodded and then looked up at Charles. They had a silent parental conversation and Charles left, muttering about how he'd "just go get dressed."

"Wait, what? Where's dad going?"

"He's going to get dressed so we can take both of you to the hospital," Pam replied, ignoring her son's complaints. "Come on, dear," she then said to the boy on the floor, tucking away some of that brilliant auburn hair of hers behind an ear, gently pushing the reflection onto his back.

Blaine and Pam both gasped.

Pam looked between the boy, who could be Blaine's twin and her own son. She brushed some of the hair from the boy's forehead, checking out all of the injuries on his face. They were like a mirror to Blaine's… except for a fading lightning bolt on his forehead.

… … …

* * *

Harry hurt everywhere. Every single part of his body hurt, even his teeth. Especially his teeth. And his nose. Ugh, his NAILS hurt. Speaking of fingers, Harry felt his own twitch a bit and squinted his face against the light he could see on the other side of his fucking eyelids.

He groaned, trying to bring an arm up to cover his face but it hurt too much. He could, however, turn his head into the pillow behind his head, which helped to diminish the light to some degree.

"Hey there, are you awake now?" A feminine voice, totally unfamiliar, but almost reminiscent, came from Harry's right. He squinted open an eye and saw red-hair and bright eyes. "Mum?" Harry muttered. Maybe he was dead and in heaven? 'I thought pain was supposed to stop when you died, though…'

"Oh dear," the woman said and Harry blinked a bit more, hoping to clear his vision. But since he had no glasses, he couldn't see at all. "No, no dear, I'm not… No." Harry felt something cool pressed to his forehead and the side of his face a few times.

"Do you want your glasses? They're… a little broken... But-oh, wait, try these..." Harry heard some shuffling and then some glasses, not his own-he could tell the difference-pressed onto his face. Surprisingly, they were even clearer than his own and he blinked wide.

The woman in front of him could be Lily Potter's fucking twin.

"Mum?" Harry said again, "Am I dead?"

"I'm not your mom, dear," she smiled benignly at him, dabbing a towel to his face once more. "At least, I really don't think I am."

Harry scrunched his face in confusion. "I'm confused."

"We are too," the woman said. "My name is Pam. Pamela Anderson."

"Harry," he replied without thought, "Nice to meet you."

The woman, Pam, laughed. "Nice to meet you too, Harry. Is your mom's name the same as mine?"

Harry shook his head a bit, trying to move to sit up but failing. Pam reached out to help him and settling him back onto the bed. "No," Harry finally grunted out, "Her name was Lily."

"Was?"

"She's dead."

"Oh dear," Pam brushed a consoling hand over Harry's face and he felt tears prick at his eyes. That single gesture was something he'd always wanted. "Do… Do you know where you are, Harry?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry shook his head slightly, eyes closed. That hand didn't leave, gently brushing through Harry's undoubtedly dirty hair.

"You're in Ohio. In the United States. My son, Blaine, said that you …" Pam's voice took on a disbelieving tone as she relayed the next sentence, "He said that you fell out of his mirror? Can you… think of any reason why that may have happened?"

Harry snorted and opened his eyes back up to look up at Pam. "Magic?" he offered with a crooked grin. He shut his eyes and dropped his head back onto the pillow fully then. Pam sighed, reaching forward to pull off Blaine's old glasses.

"Magic, you say?" Was the last thing Harry heard before he fell back asleep.

… … …

* * *

Charles returned with Blaine from the hospital about an hour after that conversation with Harry. Pam was still sitting next to Harry, nursing a mug of coffee and reading from her Kindle that was resting in her lap. The noise caused her to look up and put a finger to her mouth. Both items were set on the nightstand of the guest room they'd sequestered Harry into and she went to the door.

"What's wrong with Blaine?" She asked quietly, keeping the door opened just enough to keep an eye on Harry.

"Lots of bruising… Some cuts. The worst is a cracked rib. Blaine admitted that it was probably from being kicked. Plus the beautiful shiner on his face. I sent him to bed... He said that when he and his… date… left the dance," Charles tone of voice had Pam giving him A Look and he replied with his own that said 'I'm trying!'

"Anyway. He said they were jumped from behind in the parking lot, so he doesn't know who did it." A simple fact which really irritated Charles who wanted nothing but to prosecute the bastard who dared lay a hand on his son. "I'm contacting the school to see if there were any cameras in that area of the parking lot."

"You're not going to handle this case yourself, are you, dear?"

Charles shook his head, "No, I'll ask one of my fellows at the firm. If anything, we can prosecute the school."

"To what end?" Pam asked, leaning against the wall next to the guest room door. "He can't go back to that school…"

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew. "I can talk to Kenneth… See if I can't get Blaine into the same school as his boy."

Pam looked puzzled before clarity showed. "Oh… Dalton?" Charles nodded in response. "But it's all the way in Westerville, Charles…" The man shrugged. "I won't get to see my little boy during the week…"

"He's 15, Pam. I can just…" He shrugged again, "I can head to the main office every Friday and bring him back for the weekend, then drive him back Monday morning and go to the office again. Then we can see him every weekend."

Pam smiled at her husband and then her look fell. "And how are you feeling about…"

"About what?"

"You do know this was a hate crime, Charles. Our little boy is gay and you need to accept that."

Charles tensed then let out a breath. He ran a hand through his messy black hair and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that right now... Did that boy wake up at all?" He gestured into the guest room, taking a peek through the open door.

"He woke up about an hour ago. His name is Harry and he thought I looked like his mom. I think he may be from England. He said 'mum'."

That was a surprise. "How did he get all the way here?"

Pam shrugged helplessly. "All he said was magic before he fell back asleep." She shook her head and then put a hand on Charles' chest. "We should have taken him to the hospital too."

"How were we going to explain it? You know I went to school with several of the doctors there."

"I know, but we could have explained it away."

"He fell out of a mirror, according to Blaine. How do we explain that?"

"We lie," Pam emphasized, narrowing her eyes. "If he really did fall out of the mirror, then maybe he's some kind of weird reflection of Blaine's. So if Blaine has a cracked rib, I would bet you that Harry does as well."

Charles sighed again, scratching at his head. "If… And this is a big if, Pam, IF! If the boy is still hurting in the morning, then we'll think about taking him to the hospital."

Pam kept up her glare before shaking her head. "Fine. I'm going to sit with him some more. Check on Blaine before you go back to sleep."

"I'm not going to," Charles said and Pam gaped. "Back to sleep. I'll check on Blaine, Pam." He gave her a look and she looked sheepish, murmuring her apologies. "I'll see you later dear," he added, giving her cheek a kiss. She returned it and the two went off to their respective destinations.

… … …

* * *

Blaine woke up several hours later. He rolled onto his side, winced, then back onto his back. Deciding to just blindly reach for his glasses, he found them and turned his head to check the time. 10 am. He groaned loudly and reached, once more without looking, for his Blackberry.

When he brought it into his line of sight, he found that the damn thing was dead. "Great," he muttered, forcing himself to sit up and plug in the phone. He pressed a hand to his side and winced.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Blaine whipped his head to look at his doorway and smiled gently at his mom. "Hurting?" She asked and he nodded. "Water and medicine are on the other side of your bed. Want me to get it for you?" He nodded again and she entered his room.

"Thanks, mom," Blaine muttered as he took the bottle of water and the two pills she handed him.

Pam watched and nodded once he'd drank half the bottle. "I've got breakfast staying warm downstairs if you want some."

There was an answering grumble from Blaine's stomach.

"It'd be a good idea to eat something with that medicine," his mom added when he didn't move.

Blaine looked up and tilted his head, causing that messy, previously styled hair to flop over. "What happened to my reflection?"

Pam turned to look at Blaine's mirror as he tried to lever himself to his feet. Ugh, it hurt like that time he fell off his horse when he was 12.

"He's still asleep. His name is Harry."

"Harry?"

"Harry."

"No last name?"

"He didn't offer." Pam turned back to her son and took his arm to help bring him downstairs. "I gave him your old glasses. They looked like they worked perfectly."

Blaine just grunted in response, glancing into the guest room on their way past. Harry, his reflection, seemed to still be asleep. "That's weird," he offered in response to his mom.

"Very weird. Same black eye, same split lip, he probably has the same cracked rib." So his mom believed Blaine about Harry coming out of the mirror. That's… cool. Blaine felt less crazy. And it was a great distraction for what had happened yesterday.

At the bottom of the stairs, Pam released Blaine. "Make your way into the kitchen. Your father is in our office. I'll go try to wake up Harry."

"Okay. Thanks, mom," Blaine repeated himself, giving his mom a smile. She returned it, pecked his cheek and headed upstairs.

Blaine shook his head and went to go get some food. That medicine was pretty fast-acting and he felt dizzy.

… … …

* * *

Once the voices passed the door to Harry's room, he snapped open his eyes and grabbed the glasses from the table. It was still surprising how much better they were than his own, which he could see sitting on the table too, glass broken but still in the frames.

Panic overtook Harry for a second as he patted his pockets and he spun on the bed to look at the other nightstand in the room and then to the desk that was there as well-damn this was a nice house, shit-and he shot to his feet, adrenaline from his panic dulling the pain his chest and side.

On the desk, he found his things. Two whole wands, one broken wand, the Invisibility Cloak, the Resurrection Stone, and his pouch.

"Oh thank Merlin," Harry muttered, stuffing the cloak and stone into his pouch with his broken wand. Then he put the pouch around his neck and tucked it under his ratty shirt. After a second to think, Harry shoved the Elder Wand in the mokeskin pouch too. He didn't feel comfortable using it.

Thanks to Hermione's suggestions and research, they'd worked a few more spells onto the pouch, making it even larger inside than before. He didn't have much in there, but an array of first aid potions was a must with the life they had been living previously.

Harry was elbow deep in the tiny pouch when the woman from before came to the door. His eyes went super wide and hers matched a second later.

"Uh," Harry began. "Hullo." And he yanked his hand out of the pouch, retrieving the small box that stored his potions.

Pam shook her head, blinking hard. Just her imagination, right? Right. "Good morning, dear. How are you feeling?"

A crooked smile went across Harry's face before he winced, putting a hand to his side. "I'm fine. I've got…" He held up the box. "I've got some medicine."

"Are you sure? Blaine has a cracked rib and the doctor gave him something very strong. I'm sure he could spare a pill or two for you."

"No no," Harry eased himself gingerly into the desk chair. "I'll just take something and then get out of your hair. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome, ma'am." In the light of day, it was much easier to see that this WASN'T his mum, the hair was much too brown. And her eyes were hazel, not bright green like his own. Still… the face…

"Are you sure?" Pam took a step forward. "It's alright if you stick around. I've got breakfast downstairs?" Just like with Blaine, Harry's stomach grumbled, but he didn't move. "Come on, you can eat with Blaine and we can figure out where your family is." She stepped right up next to him and offered her arm, just like she had with her son.

Harry looked at her and her arm and then at his box of potions. He nodded slowly and stood up, taking both the box and the wand in hand as he eased himself to his feet and took her arm.

"There's a dear," Pam pat his arm. "Do you know your family's phone number? We could give them a call."

"Erm," Harry walked beside her, slowly as an ache settled into his chest. "I …" lie, lie, lie. "I don't know their number, ma'am."

"Do you have it in your cell phone?"

Harry mouthed the word and tried to wrack his brain, coming up with some vague item that Vernon may have had before that disastrous Flight of the Harrys to the Burrow.

His confusion was clear and Pam was confused too. Sure, Harry looked scruffy but by his age, most parents got their kids at least a flip phone for emergencies. "You… don't have one?"

"No, ma'am," Harry shook his head slowly, the fact that he was in a muggle household finally really hitting him. Shit. Well, they'd apparently seen him falling out of a mirror, of all things, and she'd caught him elbow-deep in his pouch, so it's not like he can break the Statute any worse at this point. Maybe they were squibs and that made it all okay?

Rationalizing was easy when you were in pain, Harry found. Probably a good thing he hadn't said his last name. Harry wasn't sure how famous he was in the American Wizarding World… Hermione would know. Hermione knew everything.

Harry was wincing with every breath as he eased his way down the stairs. He really needed to take some of those potions. Potions were just like liquid medicine, right? That would work fine? A good lie? Herbs. Holistic medicine. Fuck.

Any thought of medicine though went flying out of his brain however when he saw his fucking doppelganger sitting at the table eating pancakes.

Harry pushed away from Pam and pointed his wand at Blaine. "What the hell is going on here? Why am I sitting over there? Did you use polyjuice while I was out? Why?"

Blaine went wide-eyed, looking his reflection up and down. "What's Polly Juice?"

Pam was trying to defuse the situation, "Harry, calm down, put the… stick down."

"Stick!?" Okay, maybe these people weren't squibs with access to potions. But still. "NO, I don't think I will!" Harry pointed the wand at her and the end actually sparked in his panic. Harry winced once more, his panting breaths not helping whatever was wrong with his chest.

"How is it sparking like that? Is it a firework?" Blaine asked, stuffing some more pancakes in his mouth, unruffled and unaware of the tension. Well, kind of unaware. Not totally. He wasn't stupid, but still. It was a stick. And pancakes.

"It's!" Harry gasped in a breath, wanting to put his other hand on his head, but he was still holding a box of potions and just smacked it to his forehead. "I can't breathe."

Pam rushed over and took his by the elbow and lead him to the breakfast bar that Blaine was sitting at. "Slow, deep breaths Harry, but be careful. You probably have a cracked rib." Hadn't she said that earlier? Harry vaguely remembered that, but his head hurt even more now and he couldn't think. He decided to follow her directions, matching his breathing to hers.

"You okay?" Blaine looked around his mom, looking Harry up and down again.

Harry finally decided that the Statute could go hang itself. He didn't give a single shit anymore if these people were Muggles or not. He needed to fix his damn rib. He pointed his wand at himself and muttered the same spell he had heard Snape saying over Draco after the bathroom incident. He and Hermione made a point to memorize it during the camping trip from hell and had used it more often than they'd have liked to need to.

The light left the wand and a small glow entered his chest as he repeated the singsong incantation. Once he felt that pressure leave, a sadly familiar feeling-it was a cracked rib. Between Quidditch and being Undesirable Number 1, Harry did know that pain intimately, and once it was eased he put down his wand and snatched up the box he'd smacked into his own head.

He opened it, looking at the potions, and plucked out three he knew he could mix with little to no adverse side effects: general healing, pain reducer, and blood replenisher, just in case.

His doppelganger finally stopped eating to stare and gape.

Pam, however, seemed to take it in stride and ran a finger over his swollen eye that had already significantly reduced in puffiness, though the bruising hadn't faded. Too bad he was all out of Bruise Balm.

Blaine's stunned paralysis only lasted about twenty seconds total before the siren song of his food regained his attention. Apparently magic was nothing compared to his mother's cooking.

With all three potions downed, Harry tucked the empty vials back into his potions box-never know when empties may be needed- and shoved it into the mokeskin pouch around his neck. Then he made full eye contact with the double behind the Mom-twin. "Hullo."

"Ah, hi," he muttered between bites.

"Blaine right?"

"Yeah…"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Harry."

Blaine looked between his mom and Harry. "Are we ignoring what he just did?"

"Eat your breakfast, Blaine."

"Yes, mom."

Harry quirked a smile until she added, "You too, Harry." And she walked to the other side of the breakfast bar and set down a plate in front of him that she pulled out of a microwave. Harry pouted then and Blaine laughed. "And when you're done, could you do the same thing for Blaine's rib?"

Shifting his wand to the side, Harry looked up to Pam and then back down to the plate of pancakes. "Same thing?"

"That…" She gestured to Harry's chest and wand. "Magic?"

"... Uh. Yeah. magic."

"Yes, could you do that magic for Blaine too? Not the face, because that would be too noticeable, but the rib…"

"Oh, ah, sure. I can do that." Harry tucked into the food then. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, which was probably a bad sign.

"Milk or juice dear?"

Harry mumbled around the food, then his not-twin answered for him, "Both mom. He looks like he's going to choke. When was the last time you ate?"

Forcing a swallow, Harry panted out, "Don't remember," then kept eating.

"That's a bit not good," Blaine was mostly done, sipping his own milk and taking careful deep breaths. He remembered the doctor telling him that that was a good thing to do. He couldn't remember why, but he did remember it was a good thing to do.

Honestly, Blaine was a little jealous of how easy it was for Harry to breathe now.

"How old are you?" Blaine asked between another bite. Pam flashed him a smile.

"Uh," Harry grunted and swallowed hard again, giving a quick smile to Pam as he accepted his juice and drank from that. "I should be 18 in a few months."

"Eighteen?" both said, disbelieving. Blaine continued with, "You look exactly like me and I just turned 15 last month."

Harry scrunched his brow at that… "Really?" He poked his face with a few fingers as if that would help him see the difference.

"Yeah. I mean, you did fall out of my mirror, it'd make sense if you looked exactly like me," explained Blaine.

The confusion on Harry's face got worse. "I remember you saying that last night, ma'am," he said to Pam, then looked to Blaine, "Did I honestly fall out of your mirror?"

Blaine nodded and Harry drifted off in thought. At least until Pam tapped his plate and he went back to eating.

"That was magic too, wasn't it?" Blaine had finished his breakfast; Pam had taken the plate and given him another glass of juice to nurse.

"Probably," Harry said around his food.

"Wow… Where are you from?"

"England."

"I gathered from the accent. Where specifically?"

Harry sighed, "Surrey. But I think I was born in Wales. I went to school in Scotland."

"Woah, a true British Man!" Blaine was so enthused about that, his whole face lit up. Harry wondered if he honestly looked like that when he was excited.

"I guess so," he responded, slowing down his bites since his stomach was starting to hurt from too much too fast.

"Wow!"

Pam watched the pair converse, curious as to how little Harry had eaten. He started looking so ravenous and now was mostly tearing up the pancakes with his fork. Maybe he would like some fruit. She went to the fridge and pulled out the fruit salad she had made earlier in the week and served up a bowl for both of the boys.

"Ma'am, I couldn't eat another bite," Harry said when the bowl was placed in front of him. But the look she gave him was more effective than Mrs. Weasley's and he immediately stabbed a piece of melon with his fork and ate it with a smile.

Blaine laughed, then stopped and winced. "Hey, could you magic my rib now?" He held his side, calming his breathing.

"Sure," Harry agreed, grabbing the Hawthorn wand from the counter and pointing it at Blaine. Once more he practically sang out the spell, but under his breath, and Blaine felt the pressure ease exponentially.

"Wow," Blaine exclaimed with wide eyes, looking down to his body and then back up at Harry, "that's amazing."

The simple joy of helping someone with magic made Harry smile, but then he frowned. "I really should probably get home…" As if he had just remembered: he'd defeated Voldemort and then disappeared. Everyone was probably in a panic and thought he was dead!

"That's probably a good idea," A new voice said behind them. Harry spun on the stool, wand pointed at the new person. Blaine greeted his dad and Harry's jaw dropped.

So did his wand.

"Dad?"

… … …

* * *

Charles had had a busy morning dealing with the school. All of the photos he'd taken and had made the hospital take were uploaded onto his laptop. He then began several series of emails. One to Kenneth, to get information on Dalton. Then to Dalton. Then to Chris from the firm, asking him to take the case. As a junior partner, Chris was a good choice. Young and brash enough, he wouldn't mind representing what was most likely a hate crime case.

Hate crime against his own son.

As it was Sunday, there was very little that could be done with the school, but Charles did gather the necessary information to withdraw Blaine from the school for the rest of the year. There was no way his baby boy would be going back to that school.

The new boy was a bit of a conundrum though. Charles had no idea what to do with him. He had some favors he could call in with the local detectives… but maybe hearing his story first would be better.

If he wasn't some crazy psycho killer.

When Charles heard his wife and youngest son heading downstairs, he knew he needed to wrap it up. She probably had breakfast waiting for them.

He stopped by the bathroom to wash his face to help wake himself up, having only dozed in his chair accidentally through the night.

He made it to the kitchen just in time to hear a British accented voice claim he needed to get home.

And Charles agreed.

But hearing the double declaration from the two boys, who really could be twins, was a shock for the man and he blinked wide behind his gold wire glasses. Hazel eyes tracked the stick as it fell with a clatter, then shot back up to look at Harry.

"I don't think so," Charles proclaimed, sliding up next to Pam and giving her temple a kiss. She smiled and leaned against his chest for a moment before he went to grab his own breakfast.

"You…" Harry kept his eyes on the man, standing now. "You look exactly like my dad. Like a... a…"

"A clone?" Blaine offered helpfully.

"Yes, like a clone, thank you!" Harry grabbed his wand from the floor, holding it by his side, but his other hand went to his head. The whole situation was making it hurt.

"Kind of like me. Mom too?"

"Yes, she looks like my mum."

"Do you have a picture?"

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it. "I do, actually." He stuffed his wand into his pocket, then dipped a hand into his pouch. Charles was looking down at his bowl and didn't catch how Harry's hand disappeared into the flat piece of fabric and then pulled out a photo album that the laws of physics said could not fit.

"That's so cool!" Blaine said, moving closer to stand next to Harry. They were the same height, which wasn't very impressive for their age. Harry quirked a smile at Blaine and then went back to his album.

"Here, this one." Harry turned to the moving picture of Lily and James dancing together.

"Oh wow," Blaine leaned in close to the picture then looked up at his parents. "They really look just like you two."

Pam went around the counter to take a look at it herself and started. "Wow," she agreed, "They do."

Charles took a bite of the melon from his own bowl of fruit he'd gathered and went to look at the picture.

"Why is it moving?"

Harry turned to look at the double of his dad and then back down to the picture. "Um. Magic, sir."

"Magic isn't real." Charles countered immediately, holding his bowl of fruit and continuing to eat.

All three stared at Charles Anderson and he took a step back. "What?"

"You know, I am surprised that you two believed me so readily," Harry directed this statement at Blaine and Pam.

"You fell out of my mirror."

"I saw you with half your arm in that little pouch."

"... touché."

"What?" Charles questioned his family plus one, looking between all the faces.

"Sir, I am what is called a wizard. Normally, I would not be allowed to explain this to you, but since you saw everything by accident and no one has come yet… I think it's okay." Harry paused, then added, "I also don't care if it's okay or not, that rib hurt and I needed to fix it."

Blaine snickered at Harry's sass, looking at some of the other pictures in the photo album.

"He healed my rib too, dad," Blaine offered, stopping to look at a picture of young Harry. They didn't look as similar then. Harry looked very small and skinny, but Blaine knew he never looked that thin.

Charles furrowed his brow and looked at them all again. "I don't believe you."

Harry sighed and grabbed his wand. He flicked it at a nearby potted plant and turned it into a pig. "Tada."

Charles almost dropped his bowl of fruit. "... touché."

"Woah! Holy sh-"

"Language," Pam interrupted Blaine.

"That's! Wow!" Blaine put a hand on his mess of curly, half styled hair.

"Magic," Harry smirked and flicked his wand again, turning to the pig back to a plant.

There was silence as Charles set down the bowl of fruit and made a beeline for the coffee, prepared himself a mug, and took a sip. When he was finished processing the new information, he leaned against the counter in front of the breakfast bar where Harry was standing rigidly, wired with tension. "So magic is real."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're a wizard."

"Yes, sir."

"And you fell through a mirror into my son's room."

"Apparently, sir."

"Do you know how to get back?"

Harry's posture drooped. "... no sir."

"Hmm," Charles contemplated, taking another sip of his coffee, then turned back around to the other side of the counter. Once more, Harry tracked him. "You don't have a magical way to …" he waved his hand in a circle, "Teleport or something?"

"Oh," Harry eased himself back into his stool. "I do, but I don't think I could make it all the way back to England. The farthest I've ever gone was just across my own country, sir. I mean… Maybe, but..." he ended with a weak shrug.

"Hmm."

"I-..." Harry started, then stopped and thought. "Actually. I don't know where the American Magical society is, but I may have a book about it… Let-... Let me check." He pulled off his mokeskin pouch and dug his arm deep into it. The entire thing disappeared into the fabric this time and the Andersons all stared.

It took almost a full minute before Harry went, "Aha!" and pulled out a book that really shouldn't have fit in the pouch, just like the photo album Blaine was still looking through.

"This is one of the books … I think Hermione handed it to me for 'light reading'." He laughed sheepishly, setting the book on the counter in front of him with a hefty thud.

"That's light reading?" questioned Pam, trying not to laugh. The book was at least double the size of the photo album. At least. Maybe triple.

"You don't know Hermione, this is nothing compared to what she showed me in first-year." Harry paused a moment to punctuate that statement with his hands doing a poor job of trying to trace the size of the book she'd found Nicolas Flamel in, but quickly gave up and began to flip through the book until he found the section he needed.

"Here," Harry pointed. "MACUSA is located in … New York City. Woolworth Building."

"I know where that is," Pam and Charles said at the same time.

"Could you show me? I should be able to apparate there-that. I mean, teleport?"

Charles nodded and set down his retrieved bowl in the sink, "I'll get my laptop," and he left the room.

Pam joined Harry in looking over the book. There were coordinates for an apparation point, but Harry liked having a visual too. A few minutes later a laptop was placed down on top of the book showing a picture of the Woolworth building.

Harry looked at the picture… Then he really took in the laptop. "Oh wow," he said, tilting his head to look at the laptop from different directions. "That's… Wow, that's way more advanced than the one I saw Dudley have last summer…" And that's when finally Harry noticed the time.

And date.

Pam was the first to notice how Harry had frozen. "Harry?" She prompted, putting her hand on top of his. "What is it?"

"I-..." Harry choked, his eyes fluttering rapidly, and then raised a shaking hand to the date. "It's 2009?"

"... Yes…" Pam replied slowly, giving his hand a squeeze.

"It's… No, it's 1998."

The three Andersons shared a look amongst themselves. Charles asked, "Harry, when were you born?"

"July 31st, 1980."

"Woah, he's even older than Cooper." Blaine couldn't stop himself from saying. Pam shushed him.

"Harry," Charles took over the lead. "What… happened before you fell out of Blaine's mirror?"

Panicked green eyes met sympathetic hazel and Harry stuttered once before explaining.

… … …

* * *

It took several minutes. Pam stayed next to him and held his hand throughout. There was some stuff that Harry obviously left out, the adults could tell, but the war and his part in it-the death of his own parents, and finally destroying Voldemort-that was all explained.

"Maybe," Pam tried after a long silence had ensued, "Maybe something happened when that man died and that's why you came here. Maybe because you and Blaine are so similar?"

"Maybe," Harry could only shrug. "Anything's possible. Magic tends to be unpredictable around me." He gestured to his scar on his forehead and forced a laugh.

"Did you still want to try to get to … To this MACUSA place?"

"Even… even if it's 11 years in the future, I'm sure my friends are still looking for me." Harry rose from the stool, gathering up the two books and his box of potions and putting them all away in his pouch. "I'll try apparating to the coordinates from the book. I-" He stopped and swallowed hard.

"Thank you, Pam, Charles. For helping me. Blaine, too. I'm sure it was very scary and so thank you, really, for not just… I don't know, calling the police or something."

"Of course," Charles put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Try to let us know if you're okay, all right?"

"All right," Harry gave a weak smile and stepped away from them all. He held his wand at his side and nodded his goodbyes. Then he spun on his heel.

And fell over.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Blaine asked, kicking his feet a little from his stool.

"Blaine, shush," Pam admonished.

Harry got back to his feet, "That was weird…" And he tried to spin again. This time he kept his footing. "What in the world?" He spun again and this time a pair of cracks were heard as Harry disappeared. Then he came down from upstairs. "It does WORK. But I just can't get to the coordinates from the book?"

Heading back towards the breakfast bar, Harry pulled the previous book back out and then began to dig for any other books he happened to have in there.

He came out with more than he expected. The Andersons watched as Harry basically ignored them and did a small bit of research right in their kitchen. Charles left as he took a phone call from Chris and Blaine went upstairs to get his Blackberry. The text message he had from his friend was very disheartening. Blaine shared the message with his dad and Charles got into contact with the boy's parents.

It took Harry about 45 minutes to surface from his mini-research fest. It wasn't good news.

He sat back in the stool, staring up at the ceiling.

"Harry?" Pam prompted, bringing those green eyes down to meet her. "Did you figure it out?"

Harry hummed and leaned back forward, dropping his head into the middle of the book. "All I can find says that if you can't reach apparition coordinates than the place doesn't exist anymore."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Pam replied immediately, but Harry shot to his feet in anger.

"This doesn't make sense! I-.. I'm going to try something," And with those ominous words, Harry vanished with a crack similar to before.

"That can't be good," Blaine drawled from where he was relaxing on the couch, playing a game on his phone.

Pam had to agree.

… … …

* * *

The family was sitting down for dinner in their dining room when they heard a noise upstairs.

Blaine shot to his feet, but Pam pulled him back down and Charles rose instead.

"But what if it's Harry?" Blaine asked, looking between his parents.

"Then I'll go talk to him," Charles replied, heading out of the dining room. He came back not long later with Harry in tow. The wizard was pushed gently into a chair, a place having already been set for him. Pam reached over to start serving him up some food, but Harry waved her off and served himself.

The following ten minutes were stifling in their silence. Finally, Blaine couldn't take it anymore and asked, "So where did you go?"

Harry was silent for a while, finishing the bite he'd taken before answering, "... Everywhere I could think of."

"Did you find anything?" Blaine asked without nearly as much tact as his parents would have liked.

Harry shook his head silently, taking another bite.

Pam spoke up this time, Blaine having been shocked into his own silence. "I'm so sorry Harry."

The wizard shrugged and let out a harsh sigh. "I checked the two major schools and a few other hubs of magic I could find in the books. I even checked Woolworth, but there was nothing. There's…" he trailed off, stabbing at the mashed potatoes on his plate, not that it accomplished much. It was already mashed. "There's no magical world.

"Even if MASCUA had moved, Salem's Institute wouldn't have. It's been there forever. And Illvermorny too! I c-... I can't explain it. Something really crazy must have happened that I -" Harry stopped as he thought, remembering a conversation he'd had with Hermione about the Veil.

It had been during the time that Ron had left them and they were just sitting in the tent, reading different books. Harry had confessed to Hermione that he wasn't sure if he wanted to be an Auror anymore… He was sick of the fighting… And that maybe he would try to research the Veil. It just didn't feel right that Sirius could go through a curtain and be dead.

Hermione had told him that the spell Bellatrix had shot at Sirius probably killed him and Harry relented it was true, but he was still interested… so Hermione brought up theoretical physics of all things and the possibilities of alternate dimensions and the studies wizards had done in regards to similar theories.

That conversation came back to Harry now and it took Blaine actually clapping in front of his face to bring him back to the present. "Wut?"

"Welcome back, Harry," Blaine quirked a smile. Harry was reminded of how similar they looked. It really was like looking in a mirror. Except… the eyes. "Did you think of something?"

"Erm, yeah," Harry took a bite of food to organize his thoughts better before speaking, "I think I may be from an alternate dimension."

That brought silence to the dinner table, except for Harry's quiet chewing.

"You mean like in Donnie Darko?" Blaine asked and Harry looked at him befuddled.

"What?"

"You know, Donnie Darko?"

"Blaine, dear, Harry is from 1998, don't forget…" Pam cut in, ever the mediator.

The young Anderson looked super put out before realizing that the movie probably came out after 1998. At least that's what he assumed his mom meant, it's not like Blaine knew when the movie was released.

"Harry," Charles interrupted Blaine's thoughts, "Why do you think that?"

"Well, from what little-and this is very little that I know about physics, is that The Big Bang Theory says that our universe is ever-expanding out an infinite amount and that means there's an infinite amount of universes out there or something.

"Wizards, and some of the crazier physicists, according to my friend, believe that they are ways to interact and even travel to these parallel or alternate universes. Or dimensions. Or whatever.

"There was this… this..." Harry took a moment to wave his hand, unable to find the right word, "This thing? In my … world… that people believe lead to the Realm of Death. If you went through this Veil, you never came back and were assumed dead.

"My godfather fell through it… Remember how I said he died? Well, he was protecting me, but also battling his stupid, crazy cousin Bellatrix and she hit him with a curse and he fell through the Veil.

"I know he's dead, nothing that stupid bint Bellatrix would use would be nothing but deadly, but… It's just... hard to believe that falling through a curtain would kill you." Harry stared at the table after his mini-speech on a topic he still wasn't fully sure he understood. Yeah, Hermione had done her best, but she tended to explain things like a teacher which didn't always work for Harry.

Charles tapped his chin with the handle of his fork. "It's an interesting idea and it would explain why you can't find any of your… magical places here. Maybe, in our universe, there isn't magic."

"Does that mean," Blaine picked up the line of thought, "That I'm you from your world? And you're me?"

Harry paused and stared, taking a moment to push up his glasses-Blaine's glasses, actually- and nodded slowly. "I guess so. I did fall out of your mirror, it would make sense if I was your… alternate, so to speak."

"Woah, cool, I'm a wizarding superhero…" Blaine muttered under his breath. Pam smacked him on the hand since she couldn't reach his head. Thankfully, Harry laughed.

… … …

* * *

The rest of dinner passed without much more discussions about where Harry came from. Harry felt like he fit in, strangely, in this domestic scene, even with his still slightly battle-torn clothes. Afterward, Harry insisted on helping with dishes, since they really didn't need to prepare food for him. Pam relented since he only really need to load them into the dishwasher, which was a completely novel experience to the wizard.

"My aunt and uncle never had one of these… They liked making me do them," he explained as he loaded the last of the plates where Pam pointed.

"They don't sound like very nice people... You said your aunt was related to your mom?"

"Yeah, Petunia was Mum's older sister."

Pam hummed in thought. "I do have an older sister, but she doesn't sound at all like your aunt…"

"Really?" Harry snapped his head up. "Could I… I mean, I …" he rubbed the back of his head, "Could I see a picture of her? If she looks like Aunt Petunia, then… I think it would be more evidence of my theory."

It took the woman a moment before she remembered what they spoke about during dinner. "Oh! Yes, right. Come this way. Just close the dishwasher, I've got pictures of just about everyone in the den." Pam left the kitchen and lead the way. Harry did as he was asked and followed behind.

Once they reached the den, which just looked like a living room, but more comfortable, Pam pointed out a bunch of pictures on the wall. They were different sizes and in a staggered pattern, but the frames were all the same color. It was very artful, so much so that even Harry could recognize it. The staggered pattern reminded him of the Burrow, but he enjoyed the symmetry of it.

"Here, this is our wedding." Pam pointed to a picture. It was oddly remincist of the picture Harry had of his own parents' wedding. There was Charles, looking just like James, and Pam, like Lily, but both were wearing different outfits. Especially Charles, since he wasn't in formal wizarding robes.

Next to Pam was a taller woman, but much prettier than his Aunt Petunia. Harry stepped closer and squinted, tilting his head. "She looks similar, but not exactly the same. Not like how you do. Your hair color isn't as bright, and you don't have green eyes like my mum does, but… your face is the same. Your sister has the same coloring as Petunia, but she's… Well, she's prettier."

Pam laughed at that confession, causing Harry's already forming blush to get worse.

"What's so funny?" Blaine came in, walking over to his mom's side and tucking himself in. At 15, Blaine was still shorter than his mom sadly. That meant Harry was too, so Blaine didn't feel so bad. In fact, Blaine felt good about the fact that Harry was shorter… albeit the same height as him.

"Just something Harry said about your aunt."

"Auntie Sabrina?"

Pam nodded and Harry mouthed the name Sabrina before turning back to look at the picture. The man standing next to Charles… Harry wanted him to look like Sirius but he really didn't. He didn't look like anyone Harry recognized and he was kind of… disappointed.

His sigh, which he was unaware of, brought the Andersons' attention to him and Pam put a hand on Harry's shoulder before turning to Blaine, "Why don't you get some pajamas for Harry, Blaine? I'll show you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up."

"What?" Harry turned to look at her and stared. "No, no, I can't stay here."

"Where else will you go?" Charles interrupted, leaning against the wall that opened into the den.

Harry opened his mouth to respond but when he realized he couldn't answer he looked down and shuffled his feet. "I-... I have to go back." The words were said quietly, but firmly.

"Why?" Charles' single word felt like a slap to the face.

"Why? Why?" Harry looked up and glared, eyes almost glowing in his anger. "I just finished a war! Of course, I have to go back! I have to … I have to help rebuild! I have to!... There's… My friends! The Weasleys! Ron and Hermione and.. And... And Ginny!"

Charles released a quick breath and stepped over to Harry, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Harry. I understand that you want to see your friends, but it seems to me that none of the adults responsible for your safety took any reasonable protective measures. Even if you were to find a way back, you would be putting yourself in the hands of those same people and none of them seem to have your best interests at heart."

"But Mrs. Weasley…" Harry protested almost weakly and Charles held up a hand to silence him. Normally, Harry wouldn't let that stop him, but Charles had a way about him-probably because he looked so much like James (or because he was a lawyer) or because he was just used to people listening to him… so Harry shut up.

"I understand that she provided a maternal figure in caring for you, but she only did it when it was convenient for her, not when it was in your best interest."

Harry opened his mouth to protest once more, but realized that argument… it could apply to all of them. Even Ron and Hermione. Yeah, they went with him on that Horcrux Hunt, but… "My friends… they were there for me… when I needed them."

But Charles was ready for that. "Your friends, being your age-even at 18-couldn't reasonably be expected to look out for you more than they did. But a few friends, no matter how close, are not a good enough reason to risk your life and try to find a way back to that world. Not only do you not know how it was done, but you also do not have a magical library to research from like you did at Hogwarts."

Charles squeezed both of Harry's shoulders, "Remember your friends fondly," he expressed and the wizard stared at the floor, hoping he wouldn't start crying or something ridiculous. "But do not let them hinder you from living your life."

That… That did it. Harry felt his body shudder and covered his mouth with his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, keeping quiet as his body shook with his tears. Charles was the first to bring Harry in for a hug, followed by Blaine attaching himself to his doppelganger's back. Pam joined last, her arms around all of them, as best as she could.

The hug lasted until Harry stopped his silent tears, though the Andersons all kept close to him, touching him in some way. He leaned away, wiping his eyes with his dirty sleeves.

He muttered his thanks and then looked up at Charles. "What should I do, though? I-... I've only known magic for the last seven years, I stopped my Muggle education at 11. I expected to remain in the magical world, which doesn't exist here."

"Stay," Blaine said, wrapping both of his arms around one of Harry's. "Stay. Here. With us. With me. We could pass ourselves off as twins, right?" he looked at both of his parents when he said that, and Pam had to agree-they were too identical. Though, the eyes...

"It's… Not a bad idea," Charles hedged, "But I have no idea how we would make it work… Paperwork and all."

Blaine looked bewildered, and so did Harry-the looks just enforcing how similar they were.

"Birth certificates Blaine. Social security numbers. How do we explain away the British accent?"

"Uh. Cousin?" Blaine more guessed than stated, "You still have family back in England. Plus Grandfather retired there."

"You two look far too alike to be cousins," Pam interrupted and was hit with the two identical faces of Blaine and Harry, the only difference being eye color and the fact that Harry was wearing glasses-Blaine had put his contacts in and cleaned up during the long hours that Harry was gone.

"Well," Blaine trailed off… then shrugged. "Maybe magic can fix it?" He looked at Harry and Harry startled and looked around him.

"... Uhm… I mean, yeah, I could use some magic… If you get me originals, I could make duplicates and use magic to change the names… but… I mean. Do you…" Harry rubbed his hands together, unsure. "Do you really want to do that?"

"I think," Charles interrupted, "We should talk about this in the morning. Blaine, get Harry some pajamas and clothes for tomorrow. Harry, I'll show you to the bathroom." Then he, with his hand on Harry's shoulder, forced the conversation to end, steering the wizard from the room.

Blaine stood there with his mouth open and looked to his mom for help. She just shook her head. "Do as your dad asked. This really isn't a conversation we can have right now." It had been obvious to her just how exhausted Harry was and knew the rest would do him good.

The teen deflated with that, even his curls seemed to sag, but he nodded anyway and went to his room to pick out some items for Harry. He was kind of glad that he had some new, still in-the-package boxers he could give his double too. Otherwise, that would have been awkward.

He knocked on Harry's door, but hearing nothing, opened the door and put the clothes on the desk next to all of the books Harry had left behind. As he turned to leave the room, he bumped into Harry in a towel. Blaine squeaked and stumbled backward and then looked Harry up and down.

"Did you even use soap?" He couldn't stop himself from asking. That shower was just too fast!

Harry actually blushed, down to his chest. "I used the bar that was in there…"

"Shampoo and conditioner?"

The question was so obvious on Harry's face.

"You do know what those are, right?"

"Yes!" Harry insisted, his blush getting worse. "... but I didn't use them… I wasn't sure what was okay for me to use."

"Oh my gosh," Blaine dropped his head back and actually shoved Harry. "Go back and use ANYTHING you want in the shower! ANYTHING Okay? Use all the hot water and whatever! Just pamper yourself some, okay?" Blaine kept pushing Harry all the way back into the bathroom. "I'll bring you a toothbrush too, I bet dad didn't even think of that!" He rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him.

Harry stood there for a minute, staring blankly and then laughed before going back to the shower.

He heard when Blaine opened the door, especially when the boy started talking to him. "I've got you a toothbrush. It's green, mines blue. I'm the only other one who uses this bathroom, so whatever. You're my double, so use it like it's your own. Not my toothbrush though, that's gross." The last sentence was tacked on as an afterthought and Harry laughed in the shower.

"Okay, Blaine."

"Do you want the pajamas so you don't have to walk around in a towel?"

"It doesn't matter to me."

"... Okay!" Blaine finally left and Harry was able to finish his shower.

… … …

* * *

The next morning, Harry was the first one up. Unsurprisingly, it had been a nightmare that startled him awake. When he quickly cast _Tempus_ he saw that it was barely after five in the morning.

He took a moment to rub his face and just relish in the fact that he was… to put it bluntly: safe.

Sure, he wasn't with his friends. He didn't know these people he was with, but they had treated him like family and accepted him and magic so readily. Plus they were… they were James and Lily, possibly, just this dimension's version of them. That made it a lot easier to accept this… turn of events.

After taking a breath, Harry rolled out of bed, put his glasses back on-well. Blaine's again. He'd repaired his with magic, but the prescription wasn't nearly as correct, so those black rectangles went back on his face instead of the black circles.

He stumbled into the bathroom next, wand sticking out of his pocket, and went about brushing his teeth.

The fact he didn't have a reflection had startled him when he did this last night, but he kind of understood. He bet Blaine didn't have one either. It had made him wonder.

But no amount of prodding at the mirror-with his fingers last night, or his wand this morning, yielded anything.

After spitting and rinsing his mouth, Harry got a crazy idea. He ran back to his room and fished around in his mokeskin pouch … for… Aha!

Just like last summer, Harry cut his damned finger on the mirror. The thing was a menace. He sucked on the bleeding digit and looked at the mirror. "Aberforth!" he tried saying, but nothing happened. "Hermione?" he attempted, poking at this mirror with his wand. He still didn't have a reflection. That could be a problem…

"Come on, someone…" He threw random magic at the mirror, just intent, and a swish, but nothing happened. "Bollocks." Harry dropped his head back, feeling defeated. He couldn't fully accept that he was stuck here, despite everything Charles had said the night before… even though he did agree with the man.

He flopped back onto the bed, pouch resting on his chest. His mind wandered, playing over the events of the last few days… and that's when he remembered another communication device, of sorts, he had.

It took barely a minute before Harry was holding the Resurrection Stone in his hand again. The situation was very different this time as he turned the stone around three times, wishing for someone-anyone-to come and help him.

Amazingly, it seemed to work. A figure appeared to be walking towards him through smoke. Harry couldn't make out who it was though…

"Harry Potter."

There was only one person in the entire Multiverse who could make his name sound as if it were a curse while speaking in a deadpan tone.

"Snape!?"

"Professor Snape," the shade corrected, coalescing into an ethereal shape like Harry had witnessed in the forest before his, well, death? "You never were one to learn to respect your betters."

"Shut it," Harry responded, sitting up on the bed and glaring at the man. "Why did you come? Why not Professor Dumbledore?"

The shade of Snape rolled its eyes. It was very impressive to watch. "Someone had to come to actually educate you."

Harry paused, then, "Then why not Professor Dumbledore?"

For a moment it looked like Snape would try to strangle him. Harry felt it was a win. He may respect this man, but he was still a git.

"You do know your plea could be heard deep within the Realm of Death, right? But only one of us could come."

"Then why not someone else? Why not… someone like Mum?"

Snape's face went from disdain to stone. It was a minuscule shift, but a telling one. "I can go and then you'll never have your answer."

"No!" Harry shot up out of the bed and reached for Snape, who had turned away with his words, but Harry's hand went through his form. "No, I-... gah. I'm sorry sir, please. I.. I … can I get back home?"

Snape turned back to face the boy in front of him, who looked like he was the boy from back in 5th year instead of the one he'd given his memories to just two days prior. "No, Potter, you cannot."

Once more, Harry felt like he'd been slapped with words. He winced and sank back down onto the bed.

"Whatever magic left The Dark Lord's body, when it hit you, should have killed you. But as you were holding all three of the Deathly Hallows, it didn't. It did the next best thing-it brought you to your closest mirrored self."

"So I am in an alternate dimension."

"Yes, you are. I suspect that was something Granger taught you." Even in death, Snape was questioning his intelligence. Harry sneered and felt his respect for the man diminishing. Even if he was right.

"Are you angry?" Snape dared to mock him, "Sad? Upset? Are you going to throw a tantrum as you did in the Headmaster's office before?"

Harry snapped his head up and threw his best glare at Snape.

"You have living parents here, Potter. They may not be exactly the same as yours, but they're still your parents. Any blood test would prove it. Get over it and be happy."

"How can you say that? You never got over my mum!"

"And I was _un_happy, do you still suffer from selective hearing? Or are you just that determined to grow up to become me?"

The pair sneered at each other. Harry looked away first, flopping back with his arms crossed over his chest. Snape smirked at his victory.

"I think you'll find, Mr. Potter, that the Know-it-all Granger thought ahead for your long journey whilst camping. If you check your fancy little pouch, you'll find a book on Occlumency."

Again, Harry looked up at his dead professor quickly. "What? How do you know that?"

"Because I do, obviously." Snape's eyebrow, raised high, told Harry he was an idiot for questioning the man. "It should be easier to learn now without that Horcrux in your head. If you can scrape together the last few brain cells you have left from your multiple head injuries and near-death experiences, you should be able to use it to catch yourself up on your Muggle education."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"What else are you going to do? You're a teenager and there is no magical world here, I will confirm that for you as well." Snape turned to the side and his face screwed up like he was tasting something sour. "Harry, you have the chance to actually live your life here. Don't waste it."

Harry's eyes went wide behind his glasses, hearing Snape say that. It reminded him of what Charles had said the night before, about living his life… No one would know him here, quite literally. He could be Just Harry, a novelty he had always wanted…

Maybe this was a good thing? In a really terribly, depressing way?

"All right… professor. Thank you."

Yet again, Snape's face showed his disgust. He didn't even respond, just scoffed and turned back.

That's when another shape came out of the shadows.

"HI HARRY!"

"FRED!?" Harry yelped, facing breaking out into a happy-sad grin.

"HEY!"

"Mr. Weasley," Snape tried to say, admonishing the young man. "You were not supposed to come."

"Pft, as if I could resist." Fred waved off the comment, deeming it completely unimportant. Snape muttered something about 'rules' but that too was ignored. "Hey Harry, my awesome little brother you." The shade knelt down in front of Harry on the floor, letting a hand shift through Harry's leg, starting at the knee. Harry shivered from the contact.

"I kind of had to force my way here, so I don't have much time, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to keep an eye on everyone, okay? Hopefully, I remember this and I can tell them that you're okay, and to not try to get you back.

"You'll be happy here, Harry, I just know it. I want you to, well, not forget us, because we're your awesome family, but to … What was it that Marauder Prongs 2.0 said? Remember us fondly? Yeah. You should do that."

Harry wondered for a second how Fred knew about that, but his thoughts were interrupted as Fred plowed on.

"I think this place and this family will be good for you. After all, they're _your_ real family, after all. And you even get two older brothers!"

Again, Harry wondered how Fred knew this. Harry didn't even know that.

"So, do what the old bat says. Learn that mind magic and study like a Muggle. Or rather, study like Hermione. Make us all proud." Fred rose to his feet then and gave Harry a jaunty salute. "I've got to go now. I'm going to become the new Gryffindor House ghost, so you don't have to worry about any of them. I'll watch out for them all for you!"

"Time to go, Mr. Weasley," Snape grabbed Fred by the shoulder, the two shades able to interact with each other. Fred waved goodbye happily, even while being dragged backward by their most hated professor.

As both shades disappeared Harry had to laugh. The laughter almost felt hysterical and did eventually turn to tears.

So this was it, huh? No more going home. No more Hermione, no more Ron, no more Ginny. No Weasleys. No Teddy. No Hogwarts or magical world. Just…

Just…

Just this.

He fell back asleep thinking of that.

… … …

* * *

Blaine came in to wake Harry up a few hours later. He was curious why he had his glasses on and was above the covers.

When he went to shake Harry's shoulder, the wizard's eyes snapped open and Blaine felt his wand under his chin. "Good morning?" he offered, laughing nervously.

"Blaine?" Harry's voice croaked and he cleared it a few times, though he didn't move his wand. Constant Vigilance.

"Yeah, buddy, Blaine. Mind moving your stick?"

"Wand." Harry corrected automatically, moving the wand away as he did. He flicked out a _Tempus_ spell once more and nodded. Now was a good time to wake up, even though his mouth felt like ass again.

"Yeah, wand, that's what I said. You hungry? Mom is still around, but I usually just have cereal during the week."

Harry blinked really slowly, his speech equally slow. "Wut?"

"Food. Hungry. You. Downstairs. Breakfast?"

When Harry didn't respond, Blaine just grabbed his free hand that didn't have the wand and hauled him to his feet.

"So we've got a few different kinds of cereals, I don't know what you might like but my favorite is just Frosted Flakes, it's so good to eat with like. Bananas and strawberries and other fruits. I love when the blackberries outside are in season and I can just pick fresh ones to eat in the morning."

Harry stumbled along behind Blaine who didn't seem to have an off button, even at 8 am.

"Shouldn't you be at school?"

That seemed to work at turning off the boy.

"No… I'm not going back there."

"Oh? What happened?"

Blaine turned an incredulous look on Harry. "I got beat up."

"So? I almost died often at Hogwarts, but I always went back. Well, except for the last year, but… well whatever, I still went back."

Blaine's look got worse, starting to think the wizard was maybe a little crazy. "Mom and Dad pulled me out of school. Things are done differently here."

Harry thought about that and nodded. "Okay, that makes sense." then continued on downstairs, Blaine taking up the rear now.

After they had taken a seat, both with a bowl of Frosted Flakes, Blaine brought up the question he had been curious about for a while.

"So, Harry. Are you straight?"

"What?"

"You know, straight. You only like girls?"

The spoon, which had been halfway to Harry's mouth, was lowered back down into his cereal. "Is that really important?"

"No, I'm just curious. I'm gay. Dad… Dad doesn't really like that, though."

"Gay… like queer?"

Blaine winced but nodded nonetheless. "Yeah."

"You like other men?"

Again, Blaine nodded.

"Okay."

Blaine waited… but when Harry went back to eating his cereal, he stopped him. "Wait, that's it? Just okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be okay? It's you and your life, if you want to like boys, you can like boys."

'This is surreal,' thought Blaine, just staring at his doppelganger. "Do you like boys?"

"I… don't think I do?" Harry sounded genuinely curious at that, but then shrugged. "I've only ever dated girls, but I wouldn't really call what I did dating. Ginny and I snogged some, but that's kind of it… I was fighting a war, I didn't have much time to think about other stuff.

"Though," Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, "I do vaguely recall finding Ron's eldest brother very cool." Harry took a bite of cereal and shrugged. "I still think he's really cool. But his wife is gorgeous too."

Blaine was reduced, once more, to staring. "Maybe… you're bi?"

"Is that someone who likes both?"

"Yeah."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. But I've got way too much going on to really think about that right now, don't you think Blaine?"

The teen finally looked sheepish, ducking his head and returning to his own cereal, scooping out a spoonful of a banana slice and some flakes to eat so his mouth would be full. Harry bumped his shoulder against his to show there were no hard feelings, and Blaine gave him a chipmunk cheeked closed mouth smile to show all was well.

… … …

* * *

Charles had gone in to work at the time he usually did but was able to wrap up pretty early. He returned home just after lunch with a briefcase full of casework, as well as some of the details for Blaine's suit against his school. Unfortunately, that spot of the parking lot had no cameras.

He also had a list of all of the documents that they may need to help integrate Harry into their lives, and into society, if that was the decision they came to.

This really was a bit much to handle all at once, but Charles was a pro at multitasking. He'd once handled four high profile cases at once. He had barely slept and was nearly hospitalized by the end, but he still had done it.

Noise from the den told him where his son was-possibly with their guest, and he suspected his wife was in their shared office, so that's where he decided to head.

Sure enough, she was seated at her computer, email open on the screen, but her eyes were clearly focused internally.

"Hello, my darling wife," Charles went to his own desk and set down his briefcase. He delighted in how she startled, admonishing him with a quote 'oh Charles!' and yet she laughed.

"You were very far away," he left the question unsaid as he took out Blaine's case notes.

Pam merely hummed and turned back to look at her husband. "What happened at work today?"

"The case?"

She nodded.

"I've got paperwork for Blaine to enter Dalton ready. It's possible he'll be able to take his finals there as well since his school just uses the standardized tests. The dean said that they could arrange it for us if we wanted."

"That's good."

"Yeah… His removal from that school was official as of 11 am this morning. The lawsuit was filed at 10 am." He paused here, taking a seat on his desk chair, turning it to face his wife. "The parking lot cameras only show Blaine and his friend leaving the school and then a large group of people leaving after. The area they were beat-up seems to be a blind spot.

"Chris thinks that whoever did this to them knew about that blindspot and utilized it in their attack. Richards, the detective we got on the case, agrees. It's unfortunate-if we knew who did this, we could file this case as a hate crime. Unfortunately, with the evidence we have thus far, it's merely assault, but even that is flimsy since the parking lot could be considering 'not on school grounds'."

It was easy to see how much this bothered Charles, and Pam shared his feelings. Not being able to protect their little boy was the absolute worst.

The pair shared a not uncomfortable silence, lost in individual thoughts, before Charles brought up the other things he had done at work. "I know what paperwork we would need to make Harry apart of our lives."

Pam looked up quickly with a strange look on her face. Possibly… hopeful?

But before more could be said there was a knock at the door.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Harry looked down to his feet and cleared his throat before looking up with a firm resolve. "I heard you come home, sir. I was wondering if we could… possibly have that chat we've been putting off now? If at all possible, I would like things to be settled."

Too old. Both Andersons shared that thought but didn't voice it.

"Of course, Harry," Charles got to his feet, grabbed a few other papers from his briefcase, and then held out a hand to his wife. "Let's talk in the den, shall we?"

The wizard nodded and lead the way back to the room he had just been in with Blaine. Hanging out with his fellow teen had been enlightening… and dare he say it… fun? Considering Harry had been fighting a war two days prior and whatnot, it was surreal to just sit and learn how to use a smartphone.

The group of four settled down in the den, Harry taking a chair while Blaine and Pam shared the couch. Charles was in the other chair, the papers from before on his lap.

"So," Charles began as if he was directing a meeting at his law firm, "We're going to discuss what to do about you, Harry, who does not exist in our… dimension, but seems to be stuck here."

"I … Am actually stuck here," interrupted the wizard, even raising his hand as he did. "I-. This will sound a little crazy, but I was able to contact the spirits of some people from my world and … yeah, they explained some things and … yeah, I'm… I'm here for good."

"Well that makes the decision a lot easier, doesn't it?" Blaine poisted, sitting forward on the couch. "Harry stays and becomes my brother. Wait, Harry, when is your birthday?" Even though Harry had told them the day prior, Blaine had forgotten.

"July 31st, why?"

"Then you can be the younger brother! My birthday is April 14th!"

Harry's face scrunched in confusion. "But I was born in 1980, it's 2009, shouldn't I be the older twin?"

"No way, you're 15 again just like me! And since you were born in July, and I was born in April, I am the older twin by…" Blaine counted the months quickly, "four months." And then grinned charmingly.

The wizard didn't know what to say, looking from Blaine to Pam to Charles. "I-... …?" He looked between them all again. "What?"

"Blaine, you're getting ahead of yourself," admonished Charles, leaning forward in his seat like his son had. "Harry. Do you want to stay here with us? Become a member of our family? Become an Anderson?"

Harry opened his mouth, trying to think… but then he remembered what Fred had said and, firming his resolve again, nodded. "I do."

Pam put a hand on Blaine's arm, the teen ready to burst from excitement.

"All right. I have a list of all the documents you will need to use your magic on. We should be able to come up with some kind of story... " Charles looked over at Pam, doing his best to hide a wince. "I called Damien to get his help."

"Damien? Damien White!? Your cousin? That crazy hacker!?"

"Yes…"

"Why would you do that!?"

"I spent a long time thinking about what we could say in regards to Harry and I think saying that he went to England to live my aunt and uncle would be the best. Since they passed away recently, that could explain why Harry is back here with us and with an accent."

Pam scoffed, folding her arms over her chest.

"But," Blaine interrupted the brewing fight between his parents, "Why would Harry have gone to England?"

Charles hesitated before admitting, "That's where I'm a little stuck…"

"What if," piped up Harry, "I had been sick? That happens often with twins, doesn't it? Where one is sickly and the other is fine?" When he got a few nods, he continued, "Well what if that happened to me? And … and … like, I don't know, maybe the hospitals in England were better equipped to deal with it or something?" The wizard seemed very hesitant by the end of his suggestion, hands curled up in his lap.

Pam was the first to speak, "That's a very clever idea, Harry." She offered him a kind smile and he smiled shyly in response.

"It's better than clever, that could very well work," Charles was as close to gushing as the man got. "No one will care too much about the specific details, but even so, Damien should be able to get the paperwork to match whatever we come up with. We just need the hardcopies so he can work them into the system for us."

Harry snuck a glance over to Blaine, really curious as to who this Damien White was… the last name made him wonder if maybe the hacker cousin was… But he didn't want to get his hopes up. Blaine mouthed the word 'later' and Harry gave a tiny nod.

Pam sighed and got to her feet. "Give me the list, I'll go dig them out." Charles smiled as his wife and passed it over and she quickly disappeared from the room, muttering about stupid husbands.

"Harry," Charles spoke up once she was gone, "We will have to change your name… Are you fine with becoming an Anderson?"

"Well, yeah," Harry sat back in his chair, face thoughtful. "All my life I've only ever wanted to be Just Harry… Not Freak, Boy, Scarhead, The Boy-Who-Lived, or any of that rot… and hopefully being 'Harry Anderson' will allow me to be just that. Normality, unsurprisingly, sounds divine after the war."

"Well, hopefully, we can give you that… son." Charles gave Harry a little smile and the wizard flushed happily.

Blaine watched this movie with wide eyes, happy himself, then interrupted with. "Hey Harry, what's your middle name? Mine is Devon, after grandpa."

"Eh? Oh… It's James. After my father."

"James, huh?" Charles tapped his chin. "I think I have a great uncle named that... "

"Harry was a family name too, I think, for a great-something-grandfather. But I'm not certain."

Charles waved away the comment. "If you're not sure, don't bother bringing it up." It really was a simple solution.

"Oh, right, yes, of course, sir."

"Not 'sir'. You can… well, I realize this might be difficult, but you should probably start calling Pam and I, 'mom' and 'dad'."

"I never knew my mum and dad, sir… The few memories I have of them are… not pleasant… excluding, well." Harry was not prepared to tell them about that death march into the forest. "Anyway. It won't be difficult at all to call you that… to …" Harry stopped, a smile kept worming its way onto his face. "Dad."

Just like the first time Blaine and Cooper had said 'dada', Charles felt a surge of pride. He and Pam had always felt that two kids were perfect, but maybe three would be even better. Then he realized something. "Oh no, this is going to be very difficult to explain to Cooper."

Blaine's eyes went huge, jaw-dropping.

"Who's Cooper?" Harry had to ask.

… … …

* * *

Once Harry had been briefed on the minor family history, including the White family they were related to-and a picture confirmed what Harry worried about: Damien was a dead ringer for Sirius. Damnit.

When Harry pointed it out, Charles got a curious look on his face. "Damien would probably love to play your godfather if you want him to, kid."

A part of Harry kind of desperately wanted it. But another part thought it might be a terrible idea. Then again… "how often would I even see him?"

"Rarely."

"Blaine, do you have a godfather?"

"Yeah."

"So it would make sense if I had one too…"

"It would," Charles answered.

Harry nodded. "Okay. I don't want to … pretend he is Sirius, but … If we are going to pretend I basically grew up with him around, it would make sense if I-... if I'm attached."

"I'll let him know."

Pam returned finally with a stack of papers and other items.

It took about an hour for Harry to magic himself copies from the documents provided. Once they were done with that, Pam decided it was time to start on dinner. Harry insisted on helping, but Blaine begged off to go practice his guitar. Charles gathered the papers while suggesting Blaine should be studying, but his son shrugged it off.

Taking the papers upstairs, Charles took a seat at his desk and called his cousin on Skype. He knew the man was practically glued to his computer, despite the hour in London, and sure enough, a small webcam video popped up on the screen soon after.

"Yo Charlie," Damien said, "What can I do for my fine cousin?"

"Damien," Charles said in greeting, "I'm ready to clarify that favor." While explaining, he was scanning in the documents that Harry had made.

"Oooo, please, spill the dirt, I love gossip." Damien leaned closer to the screen, sitting up more properly.

"This is top secret," Charles warned. "I do not want this getting out to any of your other hacker buddies."

Damien looked surprised. "What have you gotten yourself into coz?"

Charles out a sigh… and started to explain. He left out a lot, but the fact that someone had magically fallen through Blaine's mirror and looked like he could be his son's twin was revealed.

Surprisingly, or maybe… unsurprisingly, Damien took it in stride. "Huh. Nice to know that some parts of String Theory could be correct."

"How do you know about String Theory?"

"What do you think I do all day?"

"I really couldn't tell you, Damien, I know my wife has some rather salacious ideas about what you do, but I honestly have no clue."

Damien chortled happily with that information. "One of my monitors is always full of different web searches. I love researching new topics. You know me, my goal is to know everything. I practically invented Wikipedia. Anyway, alternate dimensions. Awesome. So what's the plan?"

"We thought we could try making Harry Blaine's twin. That's where you come in… we need you to help us get him into the system."

"As Blaine's twin? What happened, why wasn't he with you then?"

"Sick and at a hospital in England. To explain the accent."

"That…" Damien made a face, scratching at his scraggly beard. "That's stupid. You're making it way too complicated. Why can't he just be some kid you adopted?"

"Two reasons: One, Harry looks far too identical to Blaine to pass off as a random kid, and two, why would we be adopting an English kid at 15?"

Damien shrugged, the picture going choppy for a second before smoothing out again. "Okay, good reasons. But why not just say he's your cousin?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's easier to change documents that already exist than to try to create something brand new. Harry could be the result of one of dad's affairs."

Charles sat back in his chair, shocked. "Uncle Orman had an affair?"

Damien nodded, "Oh yeah, Dad was a huge man-whore." He tapped a few keys on the keyboard and Charles saw a series of pictures come through his Skype chat that were paparazzi-style shots showing his Uncle Orman with increasingly younger women. "In fact, about 15 years ago, one of his mistresses had an abortion. Perfect place to insert Harry. Just change the abortion to leaving at an orphanage."

"Even I know the statistics on babies in orphanages, they usually get adopted. Why would Harry still be there?"

"Bad luck," Damien replied easily, tapping away at the keys.

"And his mother?"

"That mistress is actually dead. And dear old daddy is dead too, so no one can complain if I say I suddenly found him. After all, we all know how much I like to deep dive into the net."

Charles thought about this for a second, listening to some laughter that drifted up from downstairs. "That still doesn't explain why Blaine and Harry would look like twins."

"Well, that…" Damien clicked a few buttons again on his keyboard and Charles soon saw a link posted in his chat. "Look at that."

So he did and found a study about how 'We All Have Seven Doppelgangers' which extrapolated from the Infinite Monkey Theorem. Charles didn't read all of it, just skimmed enough to get a vague idea.

"You're basically saying we shrug off the resemblance."

"Yup. Besides, there is a family resemblance, too. Like how Reggy looks like Cousin Inga."

Charles thought about that. Reginald, Damien's younger brother, really did look like their cousin Ingrid. More so than she looked like her sisters, anyway.

"Okay, okay, that's fair…"

"So all you need to do is get the kid to magic himself over here, and I'll ship him back to you on a plane and boom. You've got yourself a newly adopted son. Fake adoption papers are super easy to make since they're already all about 'entering new information into the system'." Damien was clicking away on his computer before Charles could say much more, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, his cousin continued, "What's Harry's middle name?"

"J-... It's James. Harry James Potter, he said his real name is."

"Beautiful," Damien replied, eyes on one of his many screens.

Charles huffed and sat back in his chair. "Are you saying that we spent an hour thinking of a good cover story and having Harry magic up a US birth certificate for nothing?"

"Not nothing, I'm sure it was great practice for the little wizard." Damien's reply was flippant and he had a huge smirk on his face as he said it. It caused Charles to sigh again.

The pair sat in silence for a while, Damien already working on hacking Harry into the system. He knew just the orphanage to 'drop' him off at as well.

"You know," Damien piped up after a while. "I'm kind of excited to get a new little brother. Reggy has been a giant tosser lately."

"You were supposed to take over the business, cousin, that could be why."

"Meh," Damien shrugged. "He knew by the time he was 10 that I was never going to do that. What's Harry's birthdate?"

Charles blinked, nearly getting whiplash from the shift in conversation. "July 31st, I think. Let me go ask him to double-check."

"Take your time, I hafta piss." Damien threw off his headset and left his desk. Charles got a glimpse of his boxer clad legs and groaned. Of course, Damien wasn't wearing any pants.

Brushing it off, since it wasn't like he hadn't seen that before, Charles went to the top of the stairs and hollered for Harry. The boy came to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him curious.

"Yes, s-.. Uhm… dad?" How precious, even from there Charles could see how Harry's ears pinked at the word. For his own part, Charles felt a rush of affection for the boy and smiled.

"When exactly was your birthday? I apologize, I wanted to double-check, and Damien needs it for the papers."

"Oh," since the Birth Certificate they had made was done to match Blaine's, the date wasn't there. "July 31st."

"That's what I thought. Thank you." Charles turned to leave, and so did Harry, but he stopped and went back. "What is Pam making for dinner?"

Harry hesitated then turned back to look up the stairs. "Spinach and Artichoke chicken. And she let me make pea salad." Seeing the question in Charles' eyes, Harry explained. "It's something I used to make for my relatives a lot. I'm not a huge fan of cooking, but I'm a pretty decent hand at it after all these years. This was one of my cousin's favorites."

He offered a smile at his soon-to-be new son and declared, "I'm looking forward to trying it."

Harry gave him a smile in return, though much shyer than his own, and they both returned to their respective rooms.

Damien was already back at his computer when Charles sat down. "I just realized something."

"What's that?"

"Harry was raised by an aunt and uncle. Even I know the best lie is one with truth in it. He also had a cousin."

Damien stopped typing… and then got a maniacal gleam in his eyes, leaning close to the screen. The speed of his typing seemed to double for a second. "That is actually way better than what I had planned. Plus I don't have to call in a favor."

"That's… good. I was worried about the favors I would have to call in for this as well."

His cousin laughed at that, leaning back after changing the things he had already started to better fit this new information. "Did you get his birthday?"

"Oh. Yes, I was right, the 31st of July. The year should be the same as Blaine, they appear to be the same age."

"Appear?"

"Harry was actually born in 1980."

Damien stopped, the mechanical clacking on his keyboard silenced. "Really? So he's really 29?"

"No, spaz, I just said that he looks the same age as Blaine."

There was a long pause. Charles could just make out the fact that Damien was merely blinking at the camera. "Huh, crazy. Time moves differently in different dimensions." The statement was said in a slightly awed voice before the hacker shrugged it off and went back to work.

Another moment of silence passed them. Charles spent the time going over one of the cases he'd brought home with him.

Eventually, many keyboard clicks later, Damien spoke up again. "You ever heard of Strangleburgen?"

"What?"

"Strangleburgen, ever heard of it?"

"No… Can't say that I have."

"Good, that's where Harry's from now. It's a relatively small town that was bought and destroyed to make room for the expansion of the A44 in Wales. I can make his school records from there since it doesn't exist anymore. What grade should he be in?"

"That… Is another good question."

Damien sighed explosively.

"Well, Harry did tell us that he hasn't been in normal school since he was 11… If he's going to be turning 15 like Blaine, he could be a sophomore or a freshman next year."

"Sophomore?"

Charles thought for a second, trying to remember the equivalent, but Damien beat him to it.

"Ah, he should have just passed his GCSEs. Well, while he's here I'll get him to do some tests and input his grades after that. I'll send you the transcripts so you can enroll him in school properly. If he passes the GCSE, he'll join dear Blainey-boo as a sophomore. If not, we shove him into a lower grade."

Charles stared at his cousin for a moment then declared, "That's very smart."

"I _am _a genius." The smirk on Damien's face ruined any shred of modesty that statement could have held and Charles laughed at his cousin.

… … …

* * *

It took the pair nearly another hour to finish settling things. Mostly because Charles got caught up on case details, answering any random questions Damien may have had.

They settled with an 'I will email you once I know how Harry will get to England.' and that was that.

Much too late for dinner, Charles apologized to his family as he took his seat.

"It's all done? I have a twin?" Blaine asked, holding the main dish out for his dad to serve himself.

"Damien and I have a very good plan in place, but no, Blaine, you do not have a twin."

Blaine pouted and Harry felt a wave of uncertainty. "If I'm not his twin, then what am I?"

"Technically you would be his cousin of some degree. Closer to my generation than his, though." Charles reached out for the pea salad Harry had made, giving himself a nice big scoop. "Damien would be your older brother."

The statement puzzled everyone and Charles took a moment to explain Damien's plan, affairs and all. How exactly 'Uncle Orman' was 'Uncle Orman' was left out for now. Half the time Charles couldn't even figure it out.

When Charles was finished, he returned to his meal and took a few large bites. Having food in front of him always helped to remind him exactly how hungry he was.

"So…" Harry spoke first, still deep in thought, "Instead of Blaine being my brother, Damien would be my brother?"

"Technically," mumbled Charles, stopping so he could swallow and speak in a not rude way. "Technically, they both would be your brothers. We would be adopting you. Just, on paper, Damien would be blood-related to you."

Blaine was pouting, definitely, but hearing that Harry would still become his brother brought a smile to his face. "It will be fun not to be the youngest anymore. You'd be getting so many brothers, Harry. Me, Coop, Uncle Damien, and Uncle Reggy too!"

"Uncle Reggy?" asked Harry, immediately thinking of Sirius' brother Regulus. What were the chances?

Pam explained since Charles' mouth was full again. "Reginald White, Damien's younger brother. He took over the White family business since Damien wasn't going to." She scoffed and looked away, unable to hide her feelings towards the hacker.

"That's nuts," muttered Harry with a shake of his head. "My godfather, Sirius, who Damien looks exactly like, had a younger brother named Regulus, but the few times I got Sirius to talk about his family, he always called his brother Reggy."

"That's an interesting coincidence," offered Charles. "I wonder how many of them there will be."

"Knowing my luck, a ton." Harry's voice was deadpan, but almost melancholy at the same time. The Andersons chuckled softly though and Harry quirked a tiny smile.

Conversation turned elsewhere for a few minutes before Pam decided to start cleaning up. Harry immediately jumped in to help. She called him a 'Sweet Boy' and allowed it. Blaine, feeling slightly jealous, jumped in to help as well.

After everything was cleaned up, the family went to the Den. Harry pulled out his mokeskin pouch and started to dig for a book while Blaine settled in front of the TV. Charles, once more, suggested that Blaine study but the teen brushed it off once more. He'd just been beaten up, didn't he deserve a little vacation? Charles let it drop.

An hour later, Charles remembered something. "Harry. Is there any way your magic can get you all the way to England? I know you said before that you didn't think it could but… If Damien found you there, like our story will say, you have to be. Well…"

"I have to be there, yeah," Harry finished the sentence, closing the Occlumency book that had, indeed, been in his pouch around his finger to mark his spot. "I'm really not sure. Everything my friend Hermione always said about Apparition suggested that long distances were next to impossible.

"However, I know yesterday I jumped all around the States several times looking for different magical hubs here that I knew about. I wasn't even that tired when I got back here," Harry tapped his book against his knee and then shrugged. "Maybe it's all just about power."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, You-know-who, who I defeated before I fell through the mirror, he was the strongest Dark Lord that had been seen in my world since Grindelwald, who… well. Think Magical Hitler."

The Andersons, since Blaine and Pam started to listen to the conversation despite watching the TV, went wide-eyed.

"Yeah, exactly," confirmed Harry. "Anyway, since he was so strong, I… well. I was his equal, right? So I have a lot of power too. I wouldn't want to actually try Apparating all the way to England, but maybe I could map a series of several long-distance Apparations?" Drifting off into thought, Harry continued to tap the book on his leg.

"How far do you think you could … what did you, apparate?"

"Apparate." He made sure to emphasize that long A.

"Right, that means teleport?" Charles leaned forward onto a fist.

"Yeah."

"So how far could you teleport?"

Harry looked up to the ceiling as he thought about this. "Possibly… I don't know, maybe a thousand kilometers?"

Charles sat back in shock at that number, but Blaine glanced between his dad and his soon-to-be-brother. "How far is that in miles?"

"I haven't the foggiest," claimed Harry. Then he shot a smirk at Blaine. "Why not ask that fancy little phone of yours?"

Blaine scowled, but then did just that. Harry laughed at the result, especially once Blaine reacted to the number. "If that's not long-distance, what to you would be!?"

"I don't know, maybe Apparating all the way from Hogwarts to Durmstrag?"

No one understood that reference and it took Harry to moment to realize that. "Oh, I mean. Uh." He squinted an eye in thought. "Scotland to… erg… I think Durmstrag was in Bulgaria?"

Blaine's fingers flew on his Blackberry's keyboard as he looked up that distance and finally fell back against the sofa. Pam looked over at the device and fluttered her eyelids in surprise. "Wow, that would be far, dear."

"Yeah. But, you know. I think if I was well-rested enough, I could probably do it." Harry paused, then shrugged. "Maybe. The two schools have enough magic that that could probably help me… But I really don't know."

Charles finally came back into the conversation. "I think the faster we can get you to England, the better. Then we can get everything settled with getting you school records and everything." He looked at Pam for a moment then back to Harry. "I was hoping we could enter you into Dalton next year with Blaine."

"Really!?" Blaine sat up in shock while Harry asked, "What is Dalton?"

"Yes, Blaine, really. Dalton is a private academy here for boys. It's a boarding school actually, so it wouldn't be too dissimilar to what you were doing at Hogwarts, however, we would be bringing you home every weekend or so."

"I'd miss you too much," Pam confessed easily, smiling at Blaine and even offering one to Harry.

The familial love was adorable to see and Harry felt warm and fuzzy feeling it directed towards him. It was different from when Mrs. Weasley would smile at him that like because there was no Ron here to make her act that way, no part of him being a savior. Pam, and Charles, and Blaine… they owed him nothing and yet were offering him everything he ever wanted: a family.

"Thank you… really, honestly, thank you so much." Harry took a careful breath and then turned to look at Charles. "I'd be honored to go to Dalton… that is assuming I can get in."

"Ah, yes, that will be a problem. Like I mentioned before, Damien will arrange for you to take some tests…"

"GCSEs, right?"

"Yes."

Harry groaned.

"Don't worry Harry, I can help you study!" offered Blaine.

Charles interrupted, "Oh, so you'll help him study but you won't do your own?"

Blaine just smiled sheepishly and raised his hands in a mixture of a shrug and surrender. Everyone else in the room laughed at him.

"While we try to figure out how to get Harry to England, that actually would be a great idea, thank you, Blaine. Maybe you two could start planning that tomorrow and mix it with some geography lessons, hmm?" suggested Charles, rising up to his feet. "I want to check my email before I head off to bed. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"G'nite, sir," Harry offered first, opening his book again.

Pam got to her feet and gave Charles a hug, whispering her own 'Good night, dear' to him. Blaine was the last to offer his, earning a hair ruffle in response.

… … …

* * *

The next day, Harry and Blaine did as Charles suggested after they'd ate breakfast. There were several books spread out around the pair in the den, as well as Blaine's laptop and a few printed out copies of maps that Blaine had made for them.

With all of these resources, including the strange, huge, random books that Harry could vaguely remember Hermione giving him to put in his pouch after their time in Grimmauld place, they believed they had a plan of attack.

"I think you should do some tests to see if you can do any of these long-distance jumps," Blaine reasoned, gnawing on the end of his pencil as he looked at the eight different stops on their list. "Some of these are really big and I'm worried."

"Me too. I've never done a jump across the ocean like this before…" They had decided to call it jumping instead of apparating because, well. Harry couldn't remember, but Blaine had offered a very good argument and Harry couldn't refute him. Probably because Blaine was the son of a lawyer. At least that was Harry's excuse.

Anyway.

"So, practice?" Blaine repeated and Harry nodded.

"How should I do that?"

"I have no idea, I'm not magic."

Harry made a face. "You're no help."

Blaine laughed. "What if you just went to New York since you went there before, and then just tried to go the middle of the US?" He grabbed one of the printed maps of the USA and pulled it closed. "Here," he poked a finger, "Iowa is in the middle."

Taking a closer look, Harry shook his head. "I need coordinates, remember? But there used to be a magical center in Chicago, I checked it out when I was jumping all around the country." Harry tapped his finger on Chicago-or close to it. Kind of. It was a little closer to Kentucky, but Harry didn't know his geography well yet.

"That could work," mused Blaine, licking at still healing lip and jealous of Harry's mostly healed face. His doppelganger just had slight bruising left around his eye. "So just jump to and from New York and Chicago a few times."

"I can do that," Harry moved to stand up. He hesitated, pulling his wand out. "Want me to get anything while I'm there? May as well make use of the trip."

Blaine's eyes lit up. "I've always wanted to try comparing Chicago Pizza to New York pizza."

Harry couldn't stop the half-grin from forming and he nodded. "I need money though. I have absolutely nothing. Possibly a few galleons in my pouch, but they won't help me."

"What's a galleon?" Blaine asked as he shot to his feet, running to the stairs. Harry followed.

"Wizard money."

"... I could have guessed that," responded the teen before running upstairs for his wallet. A moment there, he returned and money exchanged hands.

Harry hesitated again, money deep in the pocket of the jeans Blaine had offered him. They'd had a bit of a disagreement over the shirt that morning since Blaine had wanted to dress Harry in a bow tie of all things, but Blaine finally capitulated and Harry was dressed relatively normally for him: t-shirt and long sleeve over top. "Okay. Wait. Shoes." He flicked his wand and pulled them on. "Okay, now. Now I'm going. I'll be gone for about an hour and try to return in time for lunch. Okay?"

"You just said okay like a billion times, Harry. Go. I'll tell Mom."

"... Okay." And Harry disappeared.

… … …

* * *

Muggle cities were confusing. After he had jumped back and forth between the two five times, he decided it was in his best interest to walk around a bit. He felt slightly winded, but not overly tired. Kind of like he'd just had a vigorous game of Quidditch or something.

Hands stuffed deep inside his pockets, Harry looked up at the tall buildings and just thought for a moment.

This was really a thing. This was a thing and this was going to work. Even though he was stuck here in this world without magic, he was going to get a family-a family that actually wanted him. And gave him money to just buy pizza to compare the flavors from two cities.

Harry wasn't sure what the difference would be. Pizza was just pizza, right? Though he had always wanted to try it in general… Dudley seemed to inhale it without chewing… Like a duck or something.

Kind of terrifying.

Having absolutely no idea where to go, Harry decided to approach a random street vendor. He bought a hot dog from the man and then made his request: Chicago style pizza.

A ten-minute walk later had him outside of a delicious smelling restaurant. The hot dog was long gone, so he walked inside and ordered, "What you would recommend. I've never had it before, and I'm sharing with my brother."

Harry smiled when he said that. Having a brother-four now, technically-was going to be fun.

Once Harry had the pizza he disappeared into an alley and tapped it with his wand, placing a stasis spell over it. Who would have thought that Potions class would come in handy, eh? Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he shoved the pizza box into his pouch, hoping it would be okay, and then disappeared to New York.

Just to be certain, Harry jumped back and forth between the cities until he got winded again. He made it to seven this time. Maybe Blaine had a point. Practice may get him all the way to England.

Repeating the process in New York to find pizza, Harry wandered down the street, munching on a New York hot dog, which he decided was superior to the one he'd had in Chicago, he stopped at his second pizza place in the hour and went inside.

A similar story, which wasn't even a lie, was given to the shop owner and soon Harry was out the door with another pizza. He didn't bother with the stasis spell this time. Just found an alley and jumped back to the room he was staying in.

After a quick tempus spell, Harry realized he'd been gone for closer to two hours and rushed out of the room, after kicking off his shoes, and ran downstairs. "Sorry!" he shouted before he even saw anyone.

"Harry!? Is that you?" Pam's head poked around from the kitchen and Harry saw her deflate with relief. "You had us worried. Blaine said it would just be an hour."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry." Harry offered the box of pizza out to her and she grasped it with one hand, the other reaching out to touch his cheek.

"It's all right," she said, giving his cheek a little pat. "We'll get you a cell phone eventually and you can always send a message. It will have to wait until after you come back from England, though…"

Harry blinked a few times, unsure how to respond to that. So he didn't.

Pam noticed his lack of a reaction and forced a smile. "Right, so Blaine said you brought us pizza for lunch. Two pizzas, but I only see one?"

"OH RIGHT!" Harry tugged the pouch from around his neck off and plunged his arm in. It was a sight Pam was unsure she'd ever get used to. Soon out came another box of pizza. "I just asked them to give me their recommendation. I've never had pizza before, so I didn't know what to order."

"Never had pizza!?" Blaine nearly shrieked, coming in from the den. "That's ridiculous, how could you have never had pizza before!?"

"Uhh…" Harry dithered, shifting uncomfortably. "... Well… I can try some now, right?"

"That's right!" Blaine grabbed the second pizza from Harry and hooked his arm. "Let's eat in the den, way more fun. Plus you can tell me how it went."

"Blaine, keep the pizzas in the kitchen."

"But, mommmmmmm…."

"No buts."

"Awww, man…." Blaine let go of Harry and stomped off to the kitchen. The whole interaction just made Harry laugh.

… … …

* * *

By the time Charles had returned home from a normal day at the office, Harry was able to jump clear across the entire United States. However, he could only do it once before needing to rest and eat. He had splinched off half of all of his fingernails too, which hurt like the dickens. A healing potion took care of the pain, though it would take time for them to grow back.

Could have been worse.

(Like the guy in LA who found the pile of nails on the beach. Gross.)

At least he knew he could do it. Nearly 4000 kilometers in one single jump.

It was fucking nuts.

Harry felt almost too powerful.

If he could do that much, however, going across the ocean in smaller jumps should be fine.

Charles was both impressed and worried when they relayed the information to him. He sat there, holding onto one of Harry's hands to look at his fingers. "We should probably wrap these…"

"Sir?" Harry asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"Your fingers. They're red and raw. We should cover them with some bandages."

"Oh! Yes, probably. I think I have some murtlap essence in my pouch… Hermione always made sure I had some of that on me, at all times." With his free hand, Harry reached into his pouch.

"What does that do?" Charles made eye contact with Pam and nodded to her. "Could you get us the first aid kit dear?"

"Of course. I don't know why I didn't think to do that earlier," replied Pam as she bustled off.

"It helps cuts and abrasions. I used it before in my fifth year."

"Ah, so it's like first aid cream." Charles nodded in understanding, taking the bottle from Harry once he had it removed. He looked over the bottle and shrugged, then set it aside.

Harry watched Charles and tried to tug at his hand, but the man had a firm grip. "I. em... I can do it myself."

"Nonsense, let me. Thank you, dear," Charles took the first aid kit from Pam who dropped a kiss onto Harry's head. The teen looked utterly bewildered for a moment and Charles nearly wished he had a camera to take a picture of that.

The next fifteen minutes were spent in a weird, for Harry, and yet soothing, also Harry, silence as Charles carefully applied the Murtlap essence to Harry's fingers and then wrapped them in bandaids.

Once he was complete, Harry flexed his fingers, looking at all of his covered fingertips. "This feels weird."

Charles laughed and nodded, closing Harry's potion and offering it back to the teen. Harry carefully put it back into his pouch.

"So tell me again about your path to England?"

"I'll do it!" Blaine jumped in, skidding to the floor to sit next to Harry's chair, looking up to his dad from his new position. "So first Harry will go to New York. From there, he'll go to Prince Edward's Island."

"There was a magical community there, so I have the coordinations. It should be easy to reach." Harry added and then shut up so Blaine could continue.

"From there, he'll go to St. Johns, in Newfoundland." Anticipating Harry's interruption, Blaine added, "It's another magical location."

"All right. Where to next?" prompted Charles.

"Torngat Mountain National Park. Harry wanted to go all the way to Greenland, the capital, which is another magical location-"

"Not Nuuk, there was some village deeper in the mountains," interrupted Harry, poking at Blaine's shoulder and wincing at the pain in his finger.

"Whatever, same diff. Anyway, I said that was way too far, what if he lost a leg, or missed and fell into the ocean, it's the Arctic Circle up there, he could die! So I suggested the Forest. I found pictures and the longitude and latitude. Harry thinks that should be enough to get him there."

"From there I'll go to Greenland," Harry picked up from where Blaine left off. "And then from there to Iceland. Reykjavik, specifically."

"Which I'm jealous about," Blaine groused and Charles laughed.

"Then I'll head to the area of Scotland where Hogwarts is. We looked up the coordinates, and it's just an empty forest, so I should be fine." Harry shrugged casually. "From there, it's an easy jump to London. You just have to tell me where to meet Damien."

"Sounds like you two had an eventful afternoon," Charles leaned back in his chair. He felt inexplicably proud of these two boys.

"We did. Well, Harry did. He got to see so much today!"

"I did. I ate a ton too, but I still feel hungry," Harry looked down at his fingers and pouted. "I wanted to make something for you all tonight to say thanks… Pam already said I could…"

"Aww, Harry-poo," Blaine pat the slightly younger teen's knee. "I can help."

Harry mouthed 'Harry-poo' and shook his head at Blaine. "No, Pam said you burn water."

"I resent that, I do not burn water, you can't burn water." At Harry's look, Blaine tacked on, "Without magic. Which I don't have." When Harry shot him another look, Blaine threw his arms up. "Oh come on, Harry. Let me be your hands since yours aren't working."

Grumbling, Harry rose to his feet. "Only if your mom supervises you too." Then he huffed off to the kitchen and Blaine followed like a pouting puppy.

… … …

* * *

Dinner was great and afterward, Harry was all ready to try jumping across the USA again, but Charles put his foot down.

No more attempts for the day. And when Harry finally left to go to England, he would pack plenty of food, water, warm clothes (because fucking Greenland) and would take plenty of breaks. They were in absolutely no hurry and they didn't need to have anything like his nails happen again.

Over the following week, Harry continued to practice his long-distance apparation to the point where he felt super confident that he would be able to make the trip all the way to England.

They prepared several things for Harry's journey, including anything he may need for however long he may wind up in Greenland and Iceland respectively. They made have had their names swapped, but they were both still super cold, what with being in or near the Arctic circle and what not.

Instead of trying to stretch Harry's pouch to the limit, they got Harry a hiking backpack that he would be able to attach a sleeping bag to, in case he needed it. There were a lot of other camping items that he received as well. They weren't sure if Harry would be able to do the trip in a day or two, or if it would take a week.

The last few things that Harry got were some money, and maps of London, and finally a picture of the guest room at Damien's house.

With the big giant parka on, but open, and the backpack on his back, Harry stood in the den of the Anderson's home. It was kind of awkward to say goodbye, it wasn't something he was ever any good at, but thankfully the rest of them were a lot better at it than him.

"Oh, please, don't push yourself too much," Pam was saying into Harry's ear as she hugged him for all he was worth. It was kind of like hugging a plushie, with the big coat and layers that he was wearing. At the moment, Harry was very warm but was making use of cooling charms-something he'd probably switch for warming charms once he got to Newfoundland.

"I won't."

"And take care of yourself."

"I will."

"And don't let anyone see you."

"I'll try not too."

"Oh, goodness…!" Pam gave him another big hug after he said that and Charles had to pry her off. Blaine was in the background, laughing at Harry's uncomfortable face.

"Well," Harry shuffled in place, "I'm going to go now…"

"Take care, Harry," Charles said, holding his wife.

Harry made awkward, for him, eye contact with everyone and then nodded before he disappeared without a sound. All that practice was good for something.

… … …

* * *

**AN: I am not a theoretical physicist. I'm an English Teacher in Korea. (so half the time I'm a glorified babysitter). I tried to google some stuff on how physics explains the multiverse and it does, kind of, involve String Theory, but it makes very little sense to me, so I tried to quote something that **_**did**_** make sense… and that's what Harry tried to paraphrase. **

***Strangleburgen is fictional, obviously. McKinley and Dalton are too, so I feel justified in my decision regarding the creation and immediate destruction of a fictional town for the purposes of my plot. **

**I realize the pouch became a bit of an ex Machina. I do not care. It seems legit like something Hermione would do for Harry after/during the Camping Trip from Hell. She may not be able to touch it, but she could force him to put things inside it. **


	2. Harry and Mr Grimm

**Chapter 2 - Harry and Mr Grimm **

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**AN: Don't take this too seriously. I don't. *Follow The Bouncing Muse.***

**Beta'd by Scarletdewdrops. **

_... ... …_

* * *

Damien jerked awake in his seat when he heard what sounded like a car backfiring in the other room. Or maybe it was a gunshot? It was the latter that made him wary. Extracting himself from his desk chair, tangled with his headset cable and blanket, he grabbed the gun he kept strapped to the underside of his table and went to the door.

Glancing around the corner, he could hear a strange rattling sound? and noticed what looked like a small mountain of coats and blankets that was slightly dripping onto his admittedly dirty carpet.

"Hold it," Damien aimed his gun, but the person didn't listen at all, spinning around to reveal… "Blaine?"

"S-s-s-irius?"

"Who?"

"Wait-t… D-d... Damien, right-t-t?"

That's when it finally clicked for the man and he lowered his gun. "Harry!?"

… … …

* * *

So, slowly apparating across the ocean absolutely sucked. It sucked bollocks. It sucked Satan's bollocks, or Mordred's bollocks, or something. It was just really, really bad.

The first few jumps had been just fine. Harry had to rest once he got to Prince Edward's Island. He ate a huge meal, using the cash he had been given by Charles' and Pam. The food was different, but at the same time, familiar? Either way, it was delicious and heavily fish based.

It was once Harry got to Greenland that he started to have some troubles. He misjudged the jump from Torngat National Park and landed waist-deep in snow. Immediately throwing on some warming charms helped to melt the snow-that's when Harry realized he'd taken a chunk of ground with him, oops, and dug himself out.

Now wet, shivering, and exhausted, Harry decided to transfigure himself a little hollow with the snow around him and curl up for a nap.

He woke up to find himself buried in snow. A tempus charm revealed ten hours had passed since he arrived in Greenland.

"The fuck?" Harry grunted, hardly able to move. Taking a moment to zip himself tighter into both the jacket and the sleeping bag, he wriggled a bit and then apparated to the surface.

At least he thought it was the surface.

He misjudged and went rolling down the side of his little hole for about 3 meters before he finally stopped.

Harry groaned and wiggled some more to get his arms free. After eating some energy bars, he didn't bother moving and just apparated from where he was to Iceland.

Taking a giant pile of snow with him.

He kind of passed out on the spot.

At least he woke up faster than the last time he'd… tripped… after his body decided an apparate was one too many. The knowledge that Harry only had two jumps left helped to push him to full consciousness, scarf down two more energy bars, and then apparate to Scotland.

He landed in a fucking tree. The branch he was on broke and he tumbled to the ground and sighed. Of course, the forest was different than he remembered because he was in a different fucking universe.

Harry sighed, still wrapped in his coat and sleeping bag. He glanced to his left and saw what may have been castle ruins, but at the moment, he really didn't care.

Forcing himself to his feet, Harry clung to his wet sleeping bag and disappeared.

When he reappeared and had a gun pointing at him, it was just the icing on this shit fuck of a cake.

Yeah, there was a gun in his face.

A gun. IN HIS FACE.

What an unfortunate series of events.

… … …

* * *

"Ff-f-f-f-fffucking Greenland," Harry mumbled around chattering teeth, shaking in the seat Damien had forced him into. "Should have realized doing other magic would fuck up the apparation…" He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders because even though it was the beginning of May, England was drafty. Or at least Damien's place was. Despite the man walking around without bottoms on.

That had been a sight. Sirius Black holding a gun in just boxer shorts and a hoodie. Except it wasn't Sirius Black. This was Damien White and he was now Harry's older brother.

"Maybe the cold had something to do with it too. You look blue," Damien handed over a cup of hot chocolate, which he had contemplated spiking, but decided against it. Pam already disliked him enough without him getting her new son drunk.

"Literally blue, or metaphorically blue?" quipped Harry, taking a big swallow of his drink and shuddering.

"Literally. Metaphorically I'd say red. With anger." Damien smirked and sat down. Thankfully he'd put trousers on when he went to make the drink, and now Harry could enjoy his warm beverage without the awkwardness of a man running around in his drawers, even if it _was _his own home.

Harry snorted at the joke because laughing required the body to be capable of exhaling steadily and he was shivering way too hard for that to happen in any respectable manner.

"Yeah, anger… anger is right," Harry paused to take another huge gulp of the hot chocolate. Even here, chocolate was like some kind of magical fix-all and he was feeling better already.

Damien observed him and leaned back into his chair across from the teen. "Want to complain about it?"

"Complain?"

"Yeah, it's like talking but with more cursing."

Harry laughed, starting to feel warmer. "I misjudged a few of my jumps-you. You know what those are, right?"

"Yeah, Charlie told me about it."

"Well, okay. I misjudged them. I fell asleep in a Greenland, the trip over the water took a lot out of me. And when I woke up, I was covered in snow."

"Wait wait," Damien held up a hand. "'I was covered in fucking snow.' Try it like that."

The wizard laughed some more, now that he could, and nearly finished his hot chocolate. "I was covered in fucking snow," he repeated dutifully.

"Much better. Continue."

"Well…"

… … …

* * *

"So, why did you pull a gun on me?" The pair were in the kitchen. Harry insisted on cooking. It was like some weird coping mechanism, to feed those who were taking care of him. He blamed Mrs. Weasley. And just thinking about her made him miss his world…

But, no. Shake off the melancholy Harry, this was his new life now.

"What?" Damien was washing the dishes almost as quickly as Harry could make them. It was weird, for someone to do that for him.

"The gun. You had a …" Harry gestured ineffectually. "You had a gun."

"Oh." Damien paused for a few seconds, just thinking that over. Then he shrugged. "I always keep a gun in my office. In my line of work."

Harry looked at Damien out of the corners of his eyes. "What do you do exactly? Hacker?" Not that he was 100% sure what that was.

"I work for MI6. Do you know what that is?"

A moment. Then Harry shook his head.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, I haven't been in the Muggle world since 1991."

Damien looked at him incredulously. "I'm pretty sure MI6 started before then."

"Yeah, but I was a kid. Why would I have -what even IS it?"

"Do you know the FBI? CIA?"

"Yes, those I'm familiar with."

"It's like that."

Harry considered and then turned away from his pot of food. "You're a secret agent?"

The man at the sink struck what he thought was an epic pose. Harry laughed at him.

"Mean," Damien dropped the pose and went back to cleaning. "But yeah, basically. I don't go into the field and track down people. I'm just a man at a desk." He shrugged, setting a dish onto the rack to dry. "I hack things, but for the government now."

Unsure of himself, Harry hesitated before asking, "What is hacking?"

Once again, Damien paused in thought. "You really don't know?" After Harry shook his head, he added, "Kid, we've got so much more to teach you than just algebra."

… … …

* * *

And that's how Harry's days turned into an endless cycle of perfecting Occlumency, and then going through Muggle school books, then back to make sure he was doing his Occlumency correctly, and back to Muggle studies.

It was a terrible routine and before Harry realized it, it was June. Bored, sitting at a desk in the same room as Damien, he looked up at the man who had just finished doing some business with work.

"Why do you let me stay in here?" Harry asked once the man had hung up and took off his headset.

"What?"

"In here. While you work. Why do you let me stay? Aren't you worried that I … I don't know, that I'll overhear something that I shouldn't? Speaking of, you work for the government. Isn't finding someone who can do real magic something you should be telling your... your boss or something?" Harry built up steam as he was talking, going from his hunch of studying to upright with indignation.

Once the teen wizard had stopped speaking, Damien asked, "Are you done?" Harry nodded. "Okay, good. Listen up here, Glinda, one of the reasons I let you stay here is because if anybody needs to learn how to keep secrets, it's you.

"The second reason I let you stay," Damien counted off on his hand, "is so that I can help you if you have any questions, and if I don't know the answer my 5 computers are right here to help us out."

He smirked at the teen now and leaned onto his desk to get a better look at him. "The last, and most important reason is that you're family. Nothing is more important to me than family and you and Reggy are it. Well," Damien waved a hand, sitting back in his chair. "I have other people too, but you two are my brothers! Nothing is more important than that."

Harry sat with his mouth hanging open for a while, just numbly blinking at the man. Then, "Did you call me Glinda?"

"That's all you got out of that?"

"No, that's just what I'm addressing first."

The pair shared a chuckle.

"Glinda, the good witch from the Wizard of Oz," began Damien. Harry nodded-he knew who she was. He understood that reference. "Because you're a wizard."

"But she's a girl. And a witch. I'm a wizard."

"It was just meant to be funny, move on."

"Alright, moving on. I understand what you mean about me having to learn how to keep secrets," Damien nodded this time to Harry's words. "The Occlumency helps with that. At least the book says it will. I knew someone who was basically a double agent and he could lie to the most powerful, evil man ever."

"Your Dark Lord, who you defeated before coming here."

Harry nodded. "Lied straight to his face. I saw him do it."

Damien's entire face was a question mark.

"I'll explain later."

"You'd better."

"Anyway, questions. I haven't asked you one yet."

"Doesn't mean I'm not waiting, brother mine," Damien flashed him a smile and Harry flushed, totally unused to being referred to so casually as family.

Swallowing to try to get that blush under control, Harry nodded, "All right, got it. Ask more questions."

"Please do. I have five computers, plus two laptops here, and yours is on the way."

With his mouth open to address something else, the teen stopped and stared. "You got me a laptop?"

"Of course, what self-respecting teen with rich parents doesn't have a laptop?"

Once more Harry's mouth flapped helplessly.

"Come on, Harry, this is nothing for someone like me. I rarely spend my money on stuff. Except computers"

Slowly, the wizard nodded, face red all over again… and he gave a shy little smile.

Unable to resist the urge, Damien got up and went over to the teen and ruffled his wild hair.

"Come on, it's time for a break from your schoolwork. Time to get back to your education on the 21st century. I know Blaine will have the music completely covered by the time you get back, but I'm going to cover everything else."

And before Harry could complain more, he was pulled out of the room.

… … …

* * *

Standing in front of this building was kind of terrifying.

"Catch."

Harry yelped when something shiny was tossed towards him and he caught it on reflex. "Damien! This is a cell phone! You don't just throw these around!"

"Why not? I knew you'd catch it. You have the best reflexes I've ever seen, and that's saying something, considering who I work with."

He gave a little nod when Damien said that, then looked at the phone, turning it around in his hand. It was different from the one that Blaine had-this one all screen, where Blaine's had been half keyboard. He turned it over, curious as to where they'd put the keyboard, but didn't see one and it didn't have seams that would indicate it would open. "What kind of phone is this?"

"The new iPhone 3GS. It's a few days early, but I called in a favor." Damien was smirking. "Think of it as a reward for doing well."

The teen groaned, dropping his head back. "Now I'm going to bomb them and I'll have to give this back."

"You don't have to give it back, Harry. Every teen should have a phone. Besides, this way you can call me when you're done."

"You're not sticking around?" asked Harry as he poked at the screen with a hesitant finger. He unlocked it easily, thankfully, but it was just… all screen.

"Nah," Damien waved him off, "I've got shit to do, and you'll be here for a few hours."

"Ugh," groaned Harry, "Don't remind me."

"It's just your GCSEs."

"THAT'S!" he started by yelling but his instinct to not draw attention to himself made him drop the volume to a hiss, "that's exactly the problem! The only things I have even a little confidence in are languages and maths! And I still have no idea why maths is so bloody easy!"

"Maybe because you're smart?" Damien offered, dropping a hand onto Harry's head and ruffling his hair forcefully. "Calm down. You'll do great. And if you don't do great? We'll take 'em again."

"You say 'we' like you have to sit in there with me," Harry snarked back, but then his entire being deflated, and he shoved the phone into his pocket. "I still don't understand why I have to take them here. I've done everything else at your flat."

"It's all part of the experience."

"You're a git."

"Yes, but I'm your older brother. I'm supposed to be a git, now go, before you're late." Damien waved his hands to shoo Harry along.

"They start when I get there, this is a special test you organized just for me."

"Indulge me, won't you? This is my version of dropping you off for your first day at school." Damien asked, pushing Harry towards the building. "You have everything? Pencils, notebooks, lunchbox?"

The wizard rolled his eyes, hefted his messenger bag which did include a lunch, and left. Damien shook his head and got into his car and drove away.

… … …

* * *

The tests were really hard. Harry dragged his rotting carcass out of the room and pulled out his phone. He had a few false starts since he had no idea how to use this thing-at least it was pretty intuitive. The thing that looked like a phone was the call button, Damien's name was in his phone as Mr. Grimm. (Harry had learned that this name was Damien's handler name, derived from his old hacker name. He used to leave a calling card that had a picture of a Grim Reaper reading a newspaper that said, "You've been hit by Grimm News". Harry thought his new brother was an absolute nerd.) The call button was green, and green meant go.

Stumbling down the steps of the building he'd taken the tests in, he finally found a bench and collapsed, head in one hand, the other holding his new phone to his ear. He could hear it ringing.

"Talk to me."

"I hate you so much," Harry replied when Damien answered. "That was four hours of hell. Not even my OWLs were this bad, and I had a fucking vision in the middle of my history test."

"Oh pft, it couldn't have been that bad."

"It could be and it was and I hate you. I don't know if I want to be your brother anymore."

"I'm pretty sure you don't have a choice in the matter," laughed Damien. Harry could hear traffic in the background. "I'm about ten minutes away," the man said, anticipating Harry's question.

"I'll just sit here and melt into the bench."

"You're being melodramatic. Not even Blaine is this melodramatic."

"Well, I'm not Blaine." Harry attempted to hang up on Damien but he failed a couple of times and heard the man laughing at him. That was ten minutes of stewing in an embarrassed-state.

When Damien pulled up, he was driving a different car than before. After nearly six weeks with the man, Harry didn't question it anymore.

"Get in, Glinda, we're going shopping."

"Shopping? Damien, no, you've bought me too much. First the laptop, and now this cell phone…" Harry shifted uncomfortably, but at the look Damien gave him he got in and buckled his seatbelt obediently.

"I'm your older brother. I haven't taken care of you for fifteen years. It's my duty to spoil you now."

Harry gave him a weird look; they were rarely that open about the 'cover story' but then Damien mouthed the words 'go with it' and the wizard realized something was up. Maybe the car? "I know, but still…"

"No buts! You have like 3 shirts and they're all just your old uniform. You can't keep borrowing my medieval hand-me-downs. Now, shopping." Damien stepped on the gas.

That was a strange lie, but Harry let it go. Though, he did only have three shirts. They were Blaine's. It's possible that Harry and Damien were supposed to go shopping a lot sooner than now. Or that he was supposed to be back in the USA. He hadn't had that much contact with them since he left.

With that thought in mind, Harry opened up the phone again and found Blaine's number already programmed in. A few minutes of single finger poking got a simple "Hi its harry" sent off. The series of rapid fire messages he got in reply should have been expected.

_omg HI_

_U finally got a phone?_

_Who got it for u? Coz Damien? What kind is it? Is it better than mine? I bet its better than mine_

_Im so jealous I wanna new phone but dad said no_

_Whatd u get?_

_Harry?_

_HARRY?_

Because Harry was so slow at replying, it took him a while to respond.

_Yes. Damien. Apple? I think? _

"Who you messaging?"

Harry almost dropped the phone, he startled so bad. "Just-... Blaine."

Damien muttered something about 'changing Harry's plan' then said aloud, "What does my dapper Blainey-boo have to say?"

"A lot," observed Harry, staring down at his screen. "I've…" Mindful of the cover story, Harry continued, "never really had someone this enthusiastic to message me… to… get to know me." It wasn't a lie but worded carefully to apply to the situation.

Damien flashed him a huge grin for his efforts.

Eventually, they arrived at a place called Bluewater. It looked huge and absolutely ridiculous and Harry was instantly overwhelmed.

Leaving the car in the free parking garage, Damien dragged Harry around between the stores for about an hour. How, in an hour, he managed to get several large bags of clothes was a complete mystery.

Sitting at a cafe, Damien sipped casually at his tea. The keys to their car were conspicuously placed on the fake fence that marked the edges of the outdoor cafe. Damien had his cell phone there too, so Harry didn't think much of it.

Until someone swiped both items.

Harry's eyes went wide and he made to get up, but Damien held a finger to his lips. He then produced a new key from his pocket, waved it at Harry, then tucked it away again.

"So, I think we should go to one more shop."

"What?" Harry was so confused he didn't understand the question.

"Yeah. I think you need a suit. You've got plenty of casual clothes, you may as well be a walking ad for this season. But a suit? A nice suit? That'll last you until your growth spurt."

It took a few moments for Harry's brain to catch up to the conversation. "If…" He looked curious and when Damien nodded at the unspoken question, he continued. "If it's the same as last time, it will be around the time I'm 17."

"Ah, late bloomer. Charlie was too, but look at what a weed he turned out to be?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head and asked, "Do you think I'll turn out like that?"

"If you do, you do, if you don't then you don't. No need to worry about it now," Damien shrugged dismissively, eyes locked onto Harry's hair. "We _can_ do something about that mop, though. Come on, we're going to the barber before we go to the tailor." He set down his teacup and rose to his feet. After grabbing several of the bags, he grabbed Harry's arm and forced him to follow along.

It was another couple of hours before they were done at Bluewater. The car they went to was on the complete opposite end from where they had parked before. Harry wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask about it, so he just shoved his new stuff into the trunk of this SUV, their third vehicle of the day, and got into the passenger's seat.

His phone was pulled out once he was seated, and buckled (after another glare from Damien-safety first, kids), and he looked at it. "Blaine sent me ten new messages."

"Really? That's going to be expensive for Cousin Charlie. You should warn him about that. Your number is British and attached to my plan currently. Well, it is now. You can send as much as you want, my work covers it."

Harry turned to Damien and then back his phone. He shrugged his shoulders and slouched into the seat. "That… makes me… uncomfortable…" he muttered all of this out slowly. Damien had been trying so hard to get Harry to speak out about his feelings in the few weeks they'd been together, but the teen still clammed up sometimes.

"I know it does, but you have to accept that we care about you and want to look after you. I only know how to do that by throwing money at you. Didn't you say your dogfather did the same thing?"

A tiny smile worked it way onto Harry's face and he nodded. "He got me the best, most expensive broom on the market. I loved my Firebolt… I wish I had it with me while I was on the run…"

"You didn't?"

"No, it got destroyed."

Damien side-eyed Harry for a moment. "Destroyed is a big word. Strong word. Not like broken, like, oops, I tripped and broke my broom. Destroyed implies malicious intent."

"Well, they were trying to kill us." Remembering that that night was also when Hedwig died caused Harry to frown even more. It was sad to think of the loss of his first friend… His godfather's gift… everyone else...allhisfriends…

"What you thinking there, Glinda?"

Harry forced himself to sit up, staring at Damien from behind Blaine's glasses and then down to the phone in his lap. He clenched his jaw then let out an explosive breath. "My friends I left..."

"Ah."

They'd already had this conversation before. Several times. Damien was good at dealing with emotions, but Harry's emotional baggage had emotional baggage of its own. In fact, the emotional baggage's emotional baggage even came with a matching purse and carry-on. It was a little out of his reach.

Maybe it was time to call in backup?

… … …

* * *

The mostly failing grades weren't a huge surprise to Harry. A disappointment? Yes. A surprise? No.

What WAS a surprise was when Harry walked into the kitchen to find Damien pressing who could only be Remus' double against the wall, mauling his neck with lips and teeth, saying, "My Mine, I'm so glad you came," in a sing-song voice.

"Oh bugger," Harry immediately turned around, feeling himself flush completely-even his chest and back felt hot-and ran back to the room he was staying in.

"Damien White, you are the absolute WORST!" Harry could still hear Remus' double and he covered his ears, not sure he could he handle ANOTHER person who was alive here, but dead in his world.

It took the pair about fifteen to finally knock on Harry's door. His teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so much. Occlumency wasn't helping and his brain just felt like it was running on high. He needed…

"Harry?" the not-Remus man said through the closed door, "You don't know me, but my name is Miles. I'm Damien's friend."

He did NOT need this.

Falling off of the bed, he snatched up his wand and apparated out of there.

… … …

* * *

Damien cursed when he heard that gunshot in the room, opening the door to find it empty.

"What was that?"

"I'll explain later. Maybe. I don't know, I have to talk to the kid." Damien ruffled his hair in frustration. "I don't understand. That's pretty much a right of childhood, right? He never had the chance to be traumatized by it before, and here we were: the perfect opportunity. He's even lucky he didn't catch us in bed, just necking a bit. But it's part of being a normal kid. Shouldn't we be happy and laughing?" The hacker tugged at his hair, "Why did he run away?"

"There's probably something else at play here, Damien," Miles tried to explain, even though he had no idea what was going on.

"I just hope he has his phone with him," replied Damien, pushing off from the wall after he closed the door and going to his office. "I can at least track him that way."

"You didn't."

"Of course I did." He added to himself that any self-respecting adult with a teleporting kid would, but said aloud, "That's pretty basic for hackers, keeping track of loved ones. I have one in yours too." Miles looked affronted. "Your car too."

"Damien."

"What?! I need to know where you are, okay? It's just the way I am. You should know that by now." He threw himself into his desk chair and took the entire system out of hibernation mode. He also opened up one of his laptops.

Miles sighed and grabbed the extra chair in the room, taking a seat next to Damien. "I do know. We did grow up together."

Damien opened his mouth to chant the Eton Boating Song, but Miles' covered it before he got the chance. He still smirked and licked the hand. If Damien's parents had thought that going to an all-boys school would curb his flirting habits, well, joke's on them.

"You're disgusting."

"Dirty, not disgusting. And you love it, Milly."

"Don't call me that, you know I hate it."

"Probably why I still call you it, My Mine," and Damien dived into the net to find where Harry had gone.

… … …

* * *

Harry stumbled when he landed, stumbling over a tree root and smashing into the trunk of another.

"Ow," he stated plainly, looking up to where he had landed. The jump had been made desperately, so the fact that he had landed in the forest near those castle ruins in Scotland wasn't very surprising.

After righting himself, Harry walked out of the forest and stared at the castle. The stones were all wrong. Even the color of the brickwork was wrong. Everything was in a different place. There was no lake.

This wasn't Hogwarts.

Yet it ached like it was.

… … …

* * *

Damien brushed off all of Miles' questions about how Harry was all the way in Scotland, realizing that he probably should have kicked his friend out of his office before he booted up that program, but had been a bit too distressed to think clearly.

Miles usually had that effect on him. And apparently Harry too. Come to think of it, Reggy could do it as well.

Huh.

Anyway.

Harry didn't return for nearly three hours and when he did it was obvious the boy had been crying, but he also looked… … Dare he say, RELAXED?

"Welcome back." He tried to appear nonchalant, sitting at his kitchen table with his legs in Miles' lap, chewing on pizza.

"Hi. I'm sorry," Harry apologized immediately, eyes on the ground. "He's another double." The 'he' was obvious without the gesture Harry added. "Another dead double."

Damien winced and Miles looked ridiculously curious now.

"I'm sorry too," offered Damien, "I guess I should have warned you. But…" Harry's eyes looked up but his face didn't. "It's probably going to keep happening."

"I know, it's just…" Harry dropped into another chair at the table. "Remus was one of the last links I had to my parents. Before the final battle, he made me the godfather to his son, Teddy. And then he died. And then I disappeared. I abandoned Teddy the same way Sirius abandoned me, and now he has NO ONE-"

"Harry," Damien interrupted, followed by, "Deep Breaths." but that was from Miles. "Also, Miles doesn't know everything about you. He knows the cover."

That one word helped a lot click into place for Miles.

Harry looked up in shock, mouth forming a comical O.

"Yup," Damien nearly laughed, pushing the pizza towards the wizard. "Once again, from the top!"

… … …

* * *

Somehow, constantly retelling his story over and over again was really therapeutic for Harry. It was so different from being in a place where everyone already knew it (or assumed they knew it). He could tell all of his truths and get the appropriate advice about it.

Miles telling him that Remus and Teddy wouldn't hate him for what had happened, nor for being happy in this new dimension, helped a lot. Hearing from Remus' face, albeit a less scarred one, that Remus wouldn't hate him… Yeah, it was a balm.

It wasn't until the next morning that what Harry had seen between Damien and Miles really clicked. He had another moment of mortification (the normal kind) and then an additional one (wondering if Remus and Sirius had been like that in his world [probably, considering that one Christmas present]) before he became curious.

"Hey, guys?" Once more they were in the kitchen and Damien was using Miles' lap as a footrest while they shared the paper, each reading different sections.

"Hmm?" replied Damien absentmindedly.

"Are you two a couple?"

Miles looked at Harry from over the top of the national news section. "... Kind of," He finally allowed.

"We're best friends," explained Damien, not taking his eyes off of the international news section. Economics was always first, followed by news, for him. "And sometimes lovers. It's an on again off again arrangement."

"And…" Harry ventured, "Right now you're on again?"

Damien shrugged and Miles sighed. "It's very complicated," Remus' double tried, but Harry waved a hand.

"That's not what I think I meant. I mean." Harry scratched at his head. "What I think I mean is. Does anyone know?"

"My family does," said Miles.

And Damien, "Charlie doesn't. He's a bit too old fashioned. I don't hide it, but because I'm an equal opportunity offender, I don't think my family has really realized."

Harry pulled a thinking face, glancing at his phone that was on the table. "I think you should tell Blaine."

Damien finally folded the paper down. "Why?"

"You do know he's gay, right?"

"Please, it wafts off him like a good cologne."

That entire statement bewildered Harry, but he mentally pushed it away and plowed on. "He thinks Charles hates him because he's gay. And the night I showed up he had to go to the hospital because he'd been viciously beaten for being gay."

That got Damien's full attention. "What."

Harry got shivers from the violence-promising tone, and his eyes went wide. "You didn't know?"

"No. How didn't I know? I know everything, especially about family." He left the kitchen table without another word and disappeared towards his office.

Slowly Harry brought his gaze back to Miles at the table, and added, "I'm guessing I shouldn't mention to Damien that his rib was cracked?"

Miles, knowing that information would no doubt be found within the next five minutes, looked concerned but he offered a smile to Harry. "I'm going to go check on him. He didn't rip his pants off as he walked, so that's a good sign." Miles got to his feet. "He always says he thinks the best without his pants on…" and then he was gone too.

Harry looked towards the door after them for a moment, then picked up the comics section.

… … …

* * *

Harry returned to studying while Damien worked on learning about what was going on with the Andersons. And maybe yelling at Charles. Apparently, the reason that Miles had come to Damien's place was to be Harry's tutor. Somehow, having someone else explain the details to him instead of the book made most of the stuff he didn't understand make so much more sense.

One-on-one education was awesome. Now he could appreciate a bit more why Slughorn was always trying to match students to prior graduates for apprenticeships.

History was always going to be a complete bust for him though. He would never be able to sort the Magical events from the Muggle ones, nevermind anything from another country, and said as much to Miles.

"Actually, it'd be easier to start American History from scratch, since you don't know the magical history to conflict with it… or alternate dimension history either," Miles tried to explain with the history book between them on the table.

The wizard could only shrug. "I think it was six years building a bad habit of sleeping through history class. My teacher was an actual ghost, you know, which should be cool but his voice droning on was the ultimate lullaby. The last time his class was exciting was the day after he died and the students saw he was a ghost and ran out. But when I read it to myself now, all I can hear his voice saying it and I pass out after ten minutes."

Miles chuckled, but decided to move on for now.

The amazing thing was that Harry really was gifted with languages. Latin, obviously, from all the pseudo-Latin used in magic spells. Surprisingly Greek too. French, from Fleur and long nights alone with Hermione, then Spanish, Italian, and German. Miles really wanted to see how Harry would do with an Asian language since it was so different from the Latin root ones, or maybe even Russian, but wouldn't push it.

Yet.

The Sciences were a mixed bag. Biology was good. The actual lab portions of chemistry that they tried were also good. But everything else about that science was rubbish. Some things just overlapped too much with his magical knowledge that, in this short time that they had, couldn't be sorted apart. Things that had been drilled into him in potions class that were just intuitive now was the opposite with chemical reactions.

Once Miles explained GRAMMAR to Harry, English was easy. Memorizing large amounts of data and retaining it was exactly what Occlumency was made for, so becoming familiar with the classics of literature was idiot-proof with his improved Occlumency skills.

Then Miles deemed that Harry was ready to take his GCSEs again.

Harry wasn't so sure.

It was a week into July, early morning, and Harry was being dropped off outside of a brick building to take his tests yet again. He wasn't as nervous this time, even though Damien had said this would take a few days.

Quick goodbyes were exchanged and Harry went off into the building.

"I feel so oddly proud," Damien said, rubbing a knuckle against his cheek. It wasn't a tear. No way.

Miles leaned into Damien's shoulder and asked, "Almost like a father?"

"What, impossible, I'm too young," he answered flippantly, but didn't move away from the comforting presence.

"Damien."

"I am!"

"You're 41 years old."

"And?"

"You are absolute tosh."

… … …

* * *

On the last day of testing, Harry was already waiting for them outside when they came to pick him up. He had a big grin on his face, which must be a good thing.

Especially considering where they were going next.

"So, Harry. Want to meet your grandfather?"

… … …

* * *

Harry, in fact, did not want to meet his 'grandfather'.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice.

The three were in the car together, driving out of the city and into the countryside. Harry had lost count of all the different cars Damien drove, and the intervals in which he had them varied. More than once there had been a weird handoff of keys out in public, which Harry never questioned but he was deathly curious about.

Surprisingly, once, Harry had forgotten his new messenger bag in the backseat of one of their vehicles. It was cool, and burgundy, and leather, and Harry loved that bag. But he'd forgotten it like a dolt. But, three cars later, it was waiting in the passenger seat for him, with a new book inside. It was creepy. But the book had been good.

"Why do I have to go?" Harry said in a copy of Blaine's best whine. He was slouched deep in the back seat, fiddling with his phone. He was a lot better with it now. Blaine had got him to sign up for an AIM account, which he vaguely understood was a chat program, and they sent text messages through AIM. Somehow it didn't run up Blaine's bill as much as international text messages did. Damien explained it, but it was so tech-term heavy that it went in one ear and out the other.

It kind of sucked that they had different brands of phones since the iPhone and the Blackberry just didn't offer the same apps.

"Because you're practically his nephew."

"I've seen the family tree you have on your computer. I am not his nephew, even if I really was your brother."

"Technically you'd be his grandson, so stop your complaining." Damien actually pulled off the stern parental figure for once.

Harry grumbled some more and sent a shock of magic to his phone from his finger. Miles caught the action out of his peripheral. "What was that?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you just do?"

"Oh. …" Harry turned his phone around to show Miles. "Full battery."

Damien, who was driving, took a glance back to see the phone as well, "Did you just magic your battery to full?"

Earlier teen moodiness forgotten, Harry grinned. "Yeah. I realized it when I jumped last time with my phone. The magic causes it to just... become charged, instead of causing it to... I don't know, explode or something."

Miles blinked slowly, and asked, "Is that something you expected to happen?"

"Exploding? Not especially. It's just that we were always told Muggle technology and magic don't mix. I wonder if it would have worked the same back home." Harry looked very contemplative about that then just shrugged.

His tutor nodded and then glanced at the phone once more before turning to Damien. "Have you got the… you know what yet?"

"Eh?" Damien's face shifted from confusion to a semi-hopeful leer.

Miles whapped him on the arm with the back of his hand. "Nothing like that. We talked about it. The other day?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about My Mine, speak plainly."

Miles scoffed and hissed out, "The phone, you giant boar. For your nephew, or whatever."

It took Damien much longer to understand and Harry was glancing between the two adults, trying to figure it out for himself. Damien had a nephew? HE had a nephew?

"OH!" Damien smacked the steering wheel. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. It should be here in like two weeks. Why?"

"Just making sure. It's only fair, is all."

"Yeah yeah, I know. You are my better half, after all, My Mine." Damien lifted a hand from the wheel to affectionately toy with the hair at the nape of Miles' neck.

Sensing things taking a turn for the adult, Harry spoke up, "What are you talking about?" Did Damien just yelp? Yes, yes he did. Harry laughed, "Did you forget I was back here?"

"... No."

"You totally did," chortled Harry some more.

"I was wrapped up in Milly, okay? I lose my mind around him." He flashed his on-again-off-again lover a devilish smirk.

Miles hit him again.

… … …

* * *

They had been driving for a few hours before they finally stopped. Harry sat up properly and looked out the window. "Where are we?"

"Uncle Barry's estate. After he retired in the States, he moved back here and decided that the country was where he needed to be." Damien pocketed the keys-that meant they were keeping this car for the next several hours, Harry had learned-and stretched from the long drive. "He has horses."

"Horses?" Harry asked, trying to exit the car as gracefully as his new brother did and failed. Spectacularly.

"Harry! Are you okay?" Miles rushed to the teen's side, who had managed to completely faceplant into the ground. He heard a grimace that sounded like 'my life' but his help was ignored.

Harry rolled onto his back and complained, "left leg… asleep… AHHHHH!" and he started to hit his leg a few times to wake it up.

Miles huffed, "I told you to sit properly. But no, you had to sprawl."

Damien was too busy laughing to comment.

"I'm a teenager again, that's how I _have_ to sit. Blaine said it was practically mandatory." It was a weak defense, blaming his reflection who was essentially him, but oh well.

"What's going on over here?" A voice announced, deep with a British accent. Harry looked up-and then up some more. There was a man on a horse, who could be no one other than James' father. Charles' father. Whatever. His grandfather. Is this what Fleamont looked like when he was still alive?

Did the Potter line only let one new feature in per generation? Because this man's brilliant brown hair would suggest that to be the case. Black hair for James, and then Green eyes for him, though maybe not for the Andersons since Pam and Blaine had hazel eyes…could just be a difference in universes… dimensions… whatever.

The conversation had been going on around Harry, so he finally scrambled to his feet (one still a bit tingly) and brushed off his jeans. His eyes were wide behind his glasses-finally, his own pair, though in a similar style to Blaine's old ones; just plastic instead of metal for the frames-and then … stared.

"I think we've shocked him speechless, lads," Barry dismounted from the horse, patting the beast on its neck before holding the reins and looking at Harry closely. "You look so much like my grandson."

Hardly able to speak, Harry just squeaked. Damien cackled and Miles smacked the hyena round the head.

"It's nice to meet you," Barry continued, smiling warmly. "You can just call me Uncle Barry like this degenerate does."

"Hey!" Damien yelped.

"Okay," the teen finally croaked, flushing red in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Barry just laughed. "So, Harry, do you ride?"

"Ride what?" Speaking was getting easier.

"Horses, of course!" In another smooth movement, Barry had remounted his horse.

Harry stared, jaw lax before words once more came to him. "I, uh. I've … Kind of?" He finally answered, thinking about Buckbeak and that Thestral.

"Kind of? Do you mean a pony at a fair, lad?"

"... Kinda?"

Barry chuckled and turned the horse, directing it towards the stables with gentle pressure from his heels. "Well, Blaine is a fantastic rider. I'm sure you will be too. Let's go."

… … …

* * *

It was an absolute blast learning how to ride horses. As expected, Harry was a natural. It was almost like flying, though… bumpier. Probably the best he could probably get in this world.

Either way, he fell in love with horses. On the ride back to Damien's flat, it was all he could talk about.

"And did you see how fast Uncle Barry let me go? I was up to a full gallop. Bella," and how funny that his black mare was named that, "even jumped over that log!"

"We saw," Miles replied, using the rearview mirror to watch Harry. In the past month, he didn't think he'd ever seen the boy this animated. "You were very good."

"It was bloody awesome!"

"You know there's an equestrian club at Ohio State. Blaine goes there to play polo," suggested Damien.

"Polo?"

"Sport on horses," Miles explained. Harry nodded then completely blew the topic away. He didn't want to play a sport on horses. He just wanted to go as fast as possible.

He exclaimed as such too.

Damien chortled, "I think we have a speed junkie on our hands."

"I think we do," agreed Miles. "You don't know how to drive, do you?"

"I- what? No." Harry's entire thought process stuttered. "I can teleport anywhere, why would I need to drive?"

Damien and Miles shared a look. "Well," Damien decided to take this one. (Aww, look at them. Co-parenting without realizing it). "It's pretty normal in the States for kids your age to drive. Well, not your age, you're technically 14, but you should start learning."

Harry pulled a face. "I don't want to learn how to drive."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I just don't."

"That's not a very good excuse, Harry," Miles interjected. "Think of a reasonable response."

Harry went into that teenaged sprawl in the back seat, sulking. "I can teleport."

"And when people ask how you got there with no car in no time at all? What did we talk about secrecy, Glinda?" Damien looked at him in the rearview mirror then turned his eyes back to the road, passing a car.

Grumbling, Harry went back to thinking. "Charles can drive me."

"Always? Even when you're an adult?"

More grumbling. "Blaine could."

"You're going to live with him your entire life? I don't think Blaine would appreciate it," said Miles.

Harry threw his arms up in defeat. "But I don't want to!"

"What if I buy you a car?" Damien offered, taking a look at Harry again.

"I-. what?"

"Yeah. What kind do you want. Every kid should have wheels waiting for them once they get their provisional. I realize that's over a year away, but…" Damien trailed off and shrugged. "What kind of car would you want, Harry?"

Being thrown off kilter again, Harry decided to honestly think about Damien's question. "I guess… a motorcycle?"

"What, really?"

"Yeah… My godfather, he had this motorcycle that he had enchanted. Before I even knew it was his, I used to have dreams about it as a kid. I loved the idea of it, cause it could fly, and … yeah, I'd want a motorcycle." It was like those childhood dreams were suddenly so much clearer to him-probably because of all of his Occlumency study-and he vividly recalled wanting at least a motorbike as a kid.

Damien hummed in thought. "What color?"

"Red," replied Harry immediately. "It's my favorite color."

"Couldn't have guessed," Miles teased. Harry usually wore something red every day. More often than not just his trainers, but he also had a bunch of red shirts and a red hoodie, too.

Flushing, Harry mumbled, "It was my house color at Hogwarts."

"All right, so red motorcycle. Got it. You got it. It shall be your birthday present next year, when you turn sixteen." Damien interrupted again, grinning.

Miles and Harry were not reassured by that smile. Miles, because he knew better, and Harry because it reminded him of all the pranksters he knew in his life. And that smile, in particular, was a Marauder Classic.

… … …

* * *

Breakfast was a late affair that day. It was getting close to Harry's birthday and Damien was indulging him, allowing him a day off to sleep in.

Miles slowly walked into the kitchen, holding up an envelope with Harry's name on it. "How did you get his GCSE results a month early?"

"I have connections," replied Damien, reaching out his hand to take the letter.

"Shouldn't we wait for him?"

"Probably," Damien opened the letter regardless, pulling out the papers… and frowned. That technology grade wasn't anywhere near where Damien wanted it to be. Miles, despite himself, looked over his shoulder.

The pair were silent for a while, looking at all of Harry's scores. "Well he got some A*," Damien spoke first, looking at the wizard's scores in the multitude of different languages subjects he had the boy take tests in. "And in home ec."

"Not that surprising, considering how much he likes to cook for us," replied Miles, looking at Harry's sciences scores and wincing. "Considering how he explained how he got here to us, I would have thought he would have done better in physics."

"You'd think, huh?" Damien scratched at his stubble and set the papers down. "I should scan these and send them to Charlie. Then we can have a video call to talk about where Harry goes next year."

"Where he goes?" Miles asked, straightening up and going to sit at the table.

Damien nodded. "With his birthday in July, Harry could technically go into year 10 or year 11."

"If he could go into year 10, why did you have him take his GCSEs?"

The hacker shrugged, "It's a good way to figure out his level. And he can always take them again."

"A third time?" Miles laughed, "He may kill you."

"His A-levels, then, once he's done with school in the States."

"Wouldn't he be taking his SATs or something? That's what they have over there, isn't it?" Miles buttered a piece of toast as he spoke.

Again, Damien nodded. "Yeah, but I want him to take his A-levels too…"

Miles narrowed his eyes and finished chewing. "What are you planning, Damien White?"

Immediately, Damien put his hands up in surrender, eyes wide. "Nothing, nothing!"

"I'll believe that when it's actually true. What are you planning?"

Damien clicked his tongue against his teeth and looked off to the side. "His talents would be good…"

And Remus' mirror, just as smart here as he was in Harry's world, filled in the blanks. "You want to recruit him to MI6!?"

"His talents would make him a great asset!" The secret agent tried to defend himself, but Miles' glare said that it was a lame excuse.

Using the butter knife to help him point, "Damien White," began Miles, "Don't force that boy to do anything. He's been through enough in his life. If he wants to join you at your job in the future, then that is his choice, not yours."

Rolling his eyes, Damien flapped a hand and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right. No pushing."

"No suggestions either! Let it come up on its own."

"Yes, yes, yes My Mine, as you wish."

Miles smiled and used his other hand to squeeze Damien's. "Thank you, darling."

… … …

* * *

That night, after Harry had been given his results, they sat in Damien's office on a video call with Charles.

"These are pretty good, Harry, considering you've only been studying for a few months."

Unbidden, a proud flush covered Harry's cheeks. Damien poked him in one, honestly giggling.

Harry smacked his hand.

"Thank you, Charles, I-... I had help studying."

"Yeah, Miles. He's very smart. A good man." Was Damien blushing now? "The question is, Harry, do you want to be a sophomore with Blaine, or would you like to start as a freshman."

Startled, Harry looked quickly between Damien and the computer screen where Charles' face was. He could see Pam in the background-and maybe a blurry Blaine. "I-... I have a choice?"

"Of course you do," Pam interjected, dropping her chin down onto Charles' shoulder. "Especially because you have a summer birthday."

"What does that have to do with it?" asked Harry, confused.

"Summer birthdays can go either way. You can be the youngest in your grade or the oldest." Charles explained. In the background, he could barely hear Blaine talking about how he was 'the youngest'. Probably because of his Spring birthday?

"But I spent all that time doing my GCSEs…"

"And they're very good. But, some of those grades could be better. Your chemistry grade…" Charles trailed off and Harry winced.

"It's hard! All I could hear was Snape yelling my ear about how I'm a 'dunderhead!'" It didn't help that he still had some of Snape's memories knocking around in there. He hadn't fully organized everything yet, because he had spent so long adding in new information.

Pam crouched down so she was easier to see on the screen. "Harry, dear, if you want to spend the time getting better at all of these scores, you can become a freshman. We don't care, nor will we think less of you if you do."

"HARRY, YOU WOULD ROCK IT AS A FRESHMAN. YOU'LL BE MY BROTHER EITHER WAY!" Blaine jumped in the background as he added his yelled opinion. "Though it would be cool to have him in the same classes."

Pam and Charles both turned to look at Blaine then back at Harry. Harry wondered, "I may be in your Maths, if they let me take some at my level. And languages."

"Harry, your language grades are amazing. The A-star thing is the best grade there is for these tests, right?" asked Pam.

"Yeah," Damien confirmed.

"And you got the A-star in nearly all languages." Pam held up the paper Charles had printed. "Except… Welsh-Damien White, you had Harry taking a WELSH test?"

"I took a Welsh test?" Harry asked.

"I had him take everything!" Damien once more surrendered to the loud, forceful people in his life.

Harry thought, scratching at his (yet again) hairless chin. "There were a lot of tests…"

Pam scoffed and turned away from the computer and Charles hid a smile behind his hand.

Barely, Blaine could be heard saying, "How many tests did he take?" And Pam handed over the paper. It took a second then, "HOLY COW!"

"How many subjects do most people take?" Harry asked Damien.

The man shrugged. "I think nine or ten. Only five are required."

"Five!" Harry shouted, "Five!? I took like twenty!"

"And you did a very good job." Damien patted his cheek and Harry slapped it away with a pout.

"You're a terrible big brother," mumbled Harry, turning his back on Damien. The man in question wrapped his arms around Harry and rubbed his unshaven chin against his neck. "ACK No!" Harry flailed and tried to push him off, all while sniggering.

Pam and Charles watched happily. For a minute. Then Charles interrupted, "So, Harry. What do you think?"

With a final shove, Harry moved closer to the screen, back to it, and arms out in front of him-Damien looked ready to pounce on him with tickle fingers. "I-. What? Sorry, what?" He glanced back and then back to Damien. "I will hex you! Don't tempt me! I can throw a stinging hex without my wand now!"

That stopped Damien, trying to decide if it would be worth it or not.

"Stinging hex?" Pam asked Charles, who shrugged.

"Harry, which grade? Freshman or Sophomore?"

"I-. DAMIEN Stay back!"

"I don't think we're going to get anything out of them," tittered Pam, watching the new brothers. Blaine was pouting in the background, jealous.

Charles sighed, especially hard when Damien finally jumped on Harry. "You're probably right. We'll talk to him once we're there." and then he turned off the Skype call.

Harry, having vaguely heard, was too busy defending himself against Damien.

… … …

* * *

That throwaway comment of Charles' was forgotten until Harry went to the front door to open it and Blaine was standing there.

"Blaine?"

"LITTLE BROTHER!" and Harry was promptly glomped.

Grunting, he caught his doppelganger and returned the hug after hesitating for a moment. "Blaine, what are you doing here?"

Blaine leaned back, both hands on Harry's shoulders and grinned. "I'm here for your birthday party, obviously!"

"Hello, Harry dear," Pam said, coming in behind Blaine and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Charles came behind her and gave him a firm smack on the arm, squeezing it. "Damien didn't tell you?" she continued, moving to the side so Charles could go find his cousin.

"Pam? Charles?" Harry looked around, bewildered, before returning to look at Blaine who was holding him around the waist. "Birthday?"

"Did you forget your birthday?"

Harry looked sheepish. "Maybe? What day is it today?"

"It's July 28th! Your birthday is this Friday! We flew late Sunday, but took yesterday to get used to the time change." Blaine promptly yawned at that. "Or mostly used to." Then he hugged Harry again. "I missed you!"

"You haven't known me long enough to miss me," replied a dazed Harry, though he was … kind of loving the hug and returned it. At least he was loving it until Pam took a picture of them. Matching faces turned to pout at her.

Pam replied by taking another picture. "Mom is mean," Harry stage whispered and Pam blushed, albeit happily. Harry hadn't referred to her as 'mom' often, usually defaulting to 'Pam'. And he did specifically say 'Mom' not 'Mum'.

"Yeah, Mom is so mean," Blaine added, but nothing more as he was snatched away from Harry to be smothered by a hug from Damien.

"BLAINEY-BOO!"

"Ack! Can't breathe! Help, little brother!"

Harry watched then shook his head. "Nope, you're on your own. I've had to deal with this for the past three months!"

"Traitor!" Blaine cried, his cheek being assaulted by the Unshaven Chin.

Harry just smirked and offered an arm to Pam, "Madam. Shall I escort you to the kitchen?"

Pam, giggling softly, took his arm and allowed him to lead her through.

… … …

* * *

Apparently, behind Harry's back, Damien had planned an entire party for the birthday boy, inviting lots of the extended family that they hadn't bothered to meet. Damien had no excuse, he was just blowing them off: hence, the party.

Blaine, with his new iPhone-the gift to 'make it fair' from Damien, was hiding with Harry, who was overwhelmed by the crowd and fidgeting in his new bespoke suit. The new iPhone was nice because they could use the new app, 'WhatsApp' for chatting. Especially with Damien, who was on the other side of the party messaging them in a group chat.

"You know," Blaine said as he unconsciously moved to the music. "This is your party."

"I don't like crowds."

"You were fine on the subway the other day," Blaine looked at Harry then back down to his phone. The keyboard was so different from his old Blackberry, but he was getting used to it like a pro.

Harry winced, leaning harder against the wall. "That's different."

"How so?"

Harry shrugged. "It just is."

Blaine looked at Harry again. "Is it because these people look like those you knew?"

Like hitting a nail on the head, Harry flinched… and nodded. "Her." Harry pointed to a cousin. "She looks like the person who tortured my best friend, Hermione. Not to mention what she did to Sirius…"

Now it was Blaine's turn to flinch.

"Auntie Mary is rather aggressive in her affection too."

"Which really didn't help," confirmed Harry, remembering the first time he met the three White sisters and was promptly smothered by Mariam. It hadn't aided matters that she had referred to him as 'Uncle Orman's Wittle Accident'. At least Claudia, Narcissa's double, hadn't brought her husband.

(Little did Harry know, she had. He just didn't look like Lucius Malfoy).

"It's just her way of showing love," a new voice said, causing Harry to jump and attempt to go into a defensive stance. Blaine did as well, his boxing lessons from over the summer paying off.

Blaine dropped the stance first though and jumped the new person with a hug. "Uncle Reggy!"

"Hi, Blaine," greeted the man, this 'Uncle Reggy'. "You must be my new younger brother," he addressed Harry who was much slower to relax. "I'm Reginald."

It finally clicked and Harry relaxed completely, offering a small smile. "Hello, sir."

"No, sir," Reginald waved it off, releasing Blaine and holding open his arms. "We Whites like to hug." And he motioned with his hands. Reluctantly, not _shyly_ thank you very much, Harry went to hug him.

It was better than hugging Damien since Reginald just held him comfortably. Warmly. It was safe, like when Harry was around Charles and Pam. This man would protect him with his life and for a moment, Harry thought he would burst into tears. Instead, he squeezed his new older brother tighter while Blaine rubbed his back.

"Hey now," Reginald picked up on the teen's emotions, dropping a kiss to Harry's head. "No need for that. Family looks after family. That is the most important thing to remember, now that you've been brought into the fold." He leaned back enough for the pair to make eye contact. "I'm sorry you were lost for so long. But we've found you now, and we're not letting you go."

"Well, except to come with us," Blaine added, laughing.

"Except to go with them," amended Reginald with his own laugh. "We would have gladly kept you here in England, though, Harry. Know that we are not sending you away." Reginald shook his head. "At first I wasn't sure why Damien said you were going to live with Cousin Charles, but…" he drifted off, looking at Blaine. "It's uncanny."

Blaine was in full dapper mode-gelled-down hair, bow tie, contacts, the works-and his style was so vastly different from Harry's that they didn't look quite as alike, thankfully, but it was still there when people looked close.

"Damien says that I look like you when you were younger," Harry nearly whispered, still tucked against Reginald's side.

The man raised an eyebrow. "He did?"

"Yeah. I didn't have much in the way of clothes and I was wearing some of your old stuff that he had."

"I wonder why he has my old clothes."

Blaine piped up. "Damien's a hoarder." The three chuckled.

"Come on, Harry. Stop skulking in the corner, let me introduce you to more family."

The wizard honestly whimpered for a second but allowed himself to be pulled away into the crowd.

… … …

* * *

That party was possibly more stressful than facing off with Voldemort in the forest. Once everyone was gone, Harry was alone with the Andersons, Damien, and Reginald. And all of his gifts.

"Why are there so many of them?" Harry asked, having collapsed onto the floor, next to a chair. Damien had cackled when the teen missed the chair, but Harry didn't bother fixing himself. Blaine took on the duty of handing Harry presents so he could open them.

"Because everyone loves you so much," Pam offered, writing down who the presents were from and what Harry got so that the wizard could make thank you notes.

At the same time, Damien and Reginald said, "Guilt."

Charles nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed with a shrug when Pam shot him a look. "Family is more important than anything to Whites, honey, you know that. Harry has been missing for fifteen years. Of course, they'll want to spoil him now and make up for the birthdays they've missed."

She scowled more, then turned to Harry. "Who is that one from, dear?"

Harry turned the card over and winced. "Auntie Mary…" he handed the card over to Blaine, who started a pile and then opened the gift. It was quite the ugly sweater and Harry winced again. "Yaay…" he deadpanned, "I'm so happy…"

Reginald guffawed, "You don't have to lie, Harry. Mariam has terrible taste. Did you see what she was wearing?"

The sweater was passed over to Blaine, who traded it for a new gift.

The process continued for quite some time. Thankfully, one of Harry's new relatives thought to gift him with a matching luggage set, so Blaine opened the largest one and started to pack away Harry's new items.

Throughout the whole process, they had to be careful with maintaining their cover story, because Reginald was there. Harry had a lot of practice with it since about 40% of the cars Damien drove were bugged, but Pam nearly slipped a few times. She just tried to stay quiet and kept herself busy writing so she wouldn't slip again.

By the end of the night, Harry had more things than he had ever owned before. Between the shopping trips with Damien and Miles, and this party, Harry had everything a teenager could want. Or didn't want, in regards to some gifts.

One of the coolest things he got was a leather bracelet with the White family crest etched on a piece of square metal. The family words, embossed on the inside of the cuff, were oddly fitting: Loyal unto Death. Harry put it on immediately.

The weirdest gift had been from Uncle Barry: a set of green horse bridles. Reginald took them from Blaine after the card was read through by the man. "Looks like you've got your own horse, Harry. The mare you rode before, Bella." Harry had been stunned. And then he'd started laughing.

On the ride home to Damien's, Harry explained why it was so funny to Blaine (who was coming over to spend the night and help Harry pack since their flight back to the USA was that Sunday). Then Blaine started laughing too.

… … …

* * *

That night, after Harry curled up in bed, admiring the new case he had for his phone-a useful gift from Claudia's daughter, who hadn't been able to come because of work-he heard Blaine whispering to him.

"Pst, Harry… You still awake?"

"Yeah?" He moved to the edge of his bed so he could look at Blaine on the floor. "Why?"

"I wanted to say… Thank you."

"Why?" asked a bewildered Harry, "What did I do?"

"Damien… He talked to me earlier at the party." His doppelganger looked out of the window in what had become Harry's room. "He came out to me. Told me about his sexuality. How he's omnisexual. Granted, he didn't call it that, but that's what it's called… Anyway," Blaine rolled over so he could look up at Harry on the bed, flashing him a blinding smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome?" Harry still wasn't sure why he was getting thanked.

Blaine snickered under his breath. "Damien explained about Dad… It's nice to know that dad doesn't hate me…"

"Charles could never hate you, Blaine, you're far too chipper," Harry gushed, grinning in the darkness. Blaine snorted in response. "It's true. Even if you weren't me, I wouldn't be able to hate you. It's hard to imagine that you ARE me sometimes."

"I know what you mean. Did you know your-well. Our scowling face is really scary?"

"Is it?" Harry sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow so he could be more comfortable. "Well, our happy face looks slightly demented, so maybe tone down the smiles some."

"What!" Blaine yelped before dissolving into a fit of giggles that Harry joined in. Once they settled, Blaine checked his new phone. "We should get to sleep."

"Probably."

"Cya in the morning, Hare-bear." Blaine set aside his phone and curled up with his pillow again.

"G'nite, Blainey-boo," replied Harry, stealing Damien's nickname for Blaine.

… … …

* * *

The taxi that was going to take them to the airport was all packed up. Charles and Pam were waiting inside the van while Harry and Blaine said their last goodbyes to Damien. Miles, too. He'd come to say goodbye to Harry.

"Here is my email address," he pressed a folded piece of paper into Harry's hand. "You have my phone number as well, but if you ever need anything, even just more study help, send me an email. Or a text. Any time, all right?"

Harry stared at the paper and then up at Miles and nodded slowly. "Thank you…" he whispered, dazed by the offer. "Thank you so much, Miles."

"Milly is the best," declared Damien as he draped himself over Miles' back, arms around his shoulders. "Don't hesitate with messaging me either. Family sticks together, brother mine."

This time Harry managed a real smile, grabbing the pair of them in a hug. Miles got sandwiched between the new brothers and didn't mind at all.

Blaine, who had got in the van as Harry was talking to Miles, stuck his head out the open door. "Come on, America Beckons!"

"Shut it, you yank," Harry replied, his head against Miles' chest, "I'm comfortable."

Laughing, Blaine sat down and buckled up. Miles gently pushed Harry away and towards the taxi.

"Cya later, Glinda!" Damien waved Harry into the van as well.

"Talk to you soon, Mr Grimm." Harry winked and got into the van. Damien squawked, taking a swipe at the teen, but Miles held him back with a roll of the eyes.

"Glinda?" asked Blaine as Harry fastened his own seat belt.

"Long story. That, and Damien is kind of a git."

Blaine snickered as the cab pulled away.

… … …

* * *

During the ride, Blaine brought up something he had been wondering. "Hey Harry, what clubs are you going to join at Dalton? We're required to join at least one."

"Huh? We are?"

"Yeah. I'm going to try out for the Warblers. There's a Fencing team too that I'll probably join as well."

Harry furrowed his brow. "What are the Warblers?"

Blaine's mouth dropped open. "You don't know? Even at my school, the Warblers were talked about. Probably because they kicked my school's butt last year at sectionals…"

"Blaine," Harry began, "I've been in this dimension for three months."

The teen blinked. Then nodded. "Right, I forget that sometimes."

"How could you forget?" muttered Harry.

But Blaine kept going, "Anyway, they're Dalton's glee club." When Harry didn't respond right away, not even a noise of understanding, Blaine asked, "You do know what a glee club is, right?" Harry shook his head. Once again, Blaine's mouth opened. "It's a show choir!"

"I know choir, Hogwarts had one, but what's the 'show' have to do with it? Do you dance around or something?"

"Or something," laughed Blaine, "that's exactly what glee clubs do. It's really fun."

"Well, you enjoy that. I am not musically inclined at all."

Blaine was shocked. "How!? I love music! Music is my LIFE."

Harry shrugged in response. "You know what my life has been. The other m-word. Maybe that's what's different for us."

Understanding came over Blaine and he nodded. "Makes sense. Anyway, what are you thinking of?"

The wizard shrugged again, "What are my options?"

The rest of the trip to the airport was them discussing said options. Blaine had retrieved the list on his phone the night before just so he could have this conversation with Harry today.

Eventually, the younger doppelganger decided on possibly football (not American), track, and the equestrian club. The last was Harry's first choice, but the track team sounded like fun too.

"Don't overwhelm yourself with extracurriculars," Pam warned as they were loading their suitcases from the taxi onto push carts. "We would still like for you two to do well in school."

"Of course, we do want you to have fun as well. And make plenty of friends," Charles added after paying the driver.

"Yes Dad," Blaine said, hiding his eye roll by looking at Harry and not Charles. Harry hid a smile, but nodded to his new guardian.

Conversations about school were put on hold as they made their way to the counter to check in for their flight, wade through security, and head to their gate. Distracted by all of this new stuff, since Harry had never been to an airport before, he didn't even think about Dalton until they were seated on the plane.

"By the way, Harry, have you thought about what grade you want to go into?" Charles was turned around his seat, laptop waiting on his lap so he could work during the flight.

There was a moment when Harry remembered back to the conversation nearly a week ago now and then looked at Charles. "Yes. I want to be a - what is year 10, Freshman?" after Charles nodded in confirmation Harry flashed him a blinding smile, just like Blaine's. "I think that would be the best… don't you?"

"It was your decision," affirmed Charles, though the man did agree. "I'll email the dean and forward your transcripts."

With the smile still stuck on his face, Harry leaned back into his seat. This was going to be… good. No, GREAT. It was going to be AMAZING.

Dalton Academy. Here comes Harry White.

… … …

* * *

**AN: *sings* Secret… AGENT MAN!**

**I couldn't work it in there, but Uncle Barry's real name is Berrisford. Good, old fashioned name lol. **

**I had to do so much research for 2009 in this chapter. Especially about cell phones, apps, and GCSEs. The AIM chatting thing was something that I remember doing in the late 2000s because I had a lot of overseas friends, but didn't have a smartphone yet. **

**Guest reviewer asked if I had a pairing in mind for Harry. Shortest Answer: No. Short Answer: I'm really not sure. This isn't a romance fic. I don't DO romance fics. Long answer: I personally didn't date in high school and I'm pretty sure Harry will have too many other things on his mind (like living a normal life and having a family and trying to find his place in this world without magic, though he HAS magic) to really even think about dating. The fact he dated in the canon series still baffles my mind. If it happens, it will happen naturally within the storytelling. He may have crushes on people, but it would be more along the lines of "wow, you're really nice to look at and I enjoy looking at you." **

**PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Damien drives while talking on his cell phone in this fic. This is extremely unsafe. Don't do it. And remember to always buckle your seatbelt! **


End file.
